


Roses are red, violets are blue, get thee behind me, foul fiend - after you!

by tequilamockinbird



Series: She's on AO3, she knows the risks she's taking [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Erotic Poetry, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pablo Neruda's Poetry, Picnics, References to Oscar Wilde, Reluctant Readers Make Reluctant Lovers, Rubber Ducks, Rubber duckie you're the one, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Snow, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 43,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tequilamockinbird/pseuds/tequilamockinbird
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley can't stop fantasizing about each other... frequently in each other's presence... which can get awkward.Continuing into March & for the foreseeable future.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: She's on AO3, she knows the risks she's taking [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653568
Comments: 438
Kudos: 426
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	1. Chocolate

Aziraphale drizzled the chocolate up Crowley's arm to his shoulder, taking a detour at his neck before dripping it in a long slant across his chest, above one nipple and beneath the other. Crowley stifled a delighted shudder and stretched. "Gonna tease me, angel?"

"I rather thought that was the point."

"Bastard." Crowley's belly caved in, reacting to the winding patterns of cold chocolate. "Does it have to be so cold?"

"I could warm it up next time." Aziraphale smiled, eyes flashing up from Crowley's abdomen to his eyes. "Or I could leave you like this for a bit while I heat up the rest."

Crowley lifted his non-drizzled arm and dipped a finger into some chocolate dripping down his side. He put it in his mouth. "Syrup? Don't you think actual melted chocolate might be more fun? A hot sensation that cools quickly. Takes a little more effort and finesse, I think, to eat solid chocolate that's melted onto me. You could suck, scrape with your teeth--"

"--send it back?"

Aziraphale wrenched his mind from his daydream and looked at Crowley across the table from him. "Sorry, dear boy, what was that?"

Crowley gave him one of his rare, slow blinks. "I said, is it no good? Do you want to send it back?"

Aziraphale turned back to the syrup-drizzled cheesecake. "No, it's good," he choked out. Good enough to give him fantasies.

Crowley stole a bite and sucked it down thoughtfully. "It doesn't seem bad to me. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. It's delectable." The zigzags of chocolate and raspberry sharpened the fluffy sweetness of the cake itself. Would Crowley's skin have a fruity tang, a richness like chocolate, a sweetness with an umami layer behind it? He would be salty, of course, most human bodies were, but what exactly--?

"Oh. I see. You're distracted. Where is your mind, angel?"

In the gutter. Down the drain. Getting cleansed in the water treatment plant so it can run in the tap in your flat and slide down that beautiful, bobbing throat. 

He smiled but couldn't meet Crowley's eyes. "Pretty far gone, I admit. Just a book I read today."

Crowley snorted. "If they're fascinating enough to distract you from such lovely company as my own, while you’re not even reading one, maybe I'll have to give them another try after all."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "You liked them fine when they were a subversive new technology, but as soon as they became commonplace, you turned up your nose. I believe there's a slang term for people like that."

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "Oh?"

"Hipster." 

Hips. Annnnnd now he was mentally dribbling chocolate over Crowley's right hip, mouth watering. 

"Ngk. No. Hipsters are little bandwagoners who think a hat and some semblance of alcohol literacy amount to a personality. Hipsters make avocado toast a couple times and think they're a chef, and they busk even when they only know two chords. Hipsters are pretentious."

Aziraphale solemnly took another slow bite. "Right. You'd never do something like showing off artificial grandeur. A proudly horrible demon, you are."

"Exac--wait, don't get sarcastic with me, I invented that shit. You're the bookshop owner who won't even sell anything, don't talk to me about pretention."

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in mock affront. Yes, a nice battle of wits would be just the thing to snap him out of these fantasies. "I'll have you know I sold two books today."

"Decoy copies of popular things you hate?"

"Of course. That's my point, I still associate myself and my store with crassness such as Fifty Shades of Grey and--"

"Ooh, you dared stock erotica? Careful, Gabriel might come looking for pornography again."

"Please, Crowley, there's an entire erotica section of the shop upstairs. Fifty Shades is poorly written, that's why it's drivel. I'm selective, not a prude."

"You mispronounced pretentious just now. Also, what? When did you start stocking erotica?"

"Oh, I don't remember, the 70s, 60s maybe?"

"And you actually read it?" Crowley asked skeptically. 

"Yes," Aziraphale answered defensively, looking Crowley dead in the eyes. 

Mistake. His face was going to give away too much. He could feel it flushing. 

"Although I prefer erotic poetry to erotic narratives."

Not. Better. He tried to look confident and took another bite of cake just to shut up his mouth. 

"Sorry," Crowley said. "I'm trying to process the fact that you, Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Principality and Pretentious Bookshop Owner, have what sounds like a predictably pretentious _spank bank_."

"Oh, nothing so formal as that. And I didn't say anything about spanking banks or anything else, mind you."

Crowley made an exasperated gesture and looked up, almost as if in prayer. "You have to be misusing these words on purpose. What kind of bank could even be spanked? A piggy bank, I guess?"

Aziraphale was, of course, misusing such terms intentionally. He'd had a lot of fun confusing and frustrating the general world around him in this way. 

"What you get up to in your spare time is your business," he said primly, still trying not to imagine licking chocolate from Crowley's happy trail. 

_But I wish it was mine._


	2. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roses. Spinning wheels. Poisoned apples. Forbidden fruit. Fuck it all.

Roses, with their sneaking thorns, were supposed to be the perfect metaphor for beautiful things that should not be touched. 

Like a prick on the finger could compare to the consequences they would have faced. That prick, for them, would have been more like Sleeping Beauty's spindle, with no fairies to soften the spell. Eternal sleep. For them, the thorns were laced with poison.

Poisoned apples. Forbidden fruit. Fuck it all.

That was behind them now, right? The thorns, the poison, the spindle, the Don't Touch sign, they were all gone. They were free. 

So many times, Crowley thought he could read something deeply wanting in Aziraphale's expression. Now he had possible confirmation that he had sexual preferences - _I prefer erotic poetry to erotic narratives._

If he wasn't making a move, it might mean… he wasn't interested. 

Or would it still be too fast?

Crowley lounged on the bookshop sofa, hugging a pillow to his chest to prop up his phone, scrolling through Twitter and Tumblr and reading nothing. Aziraphale bumbled around the bookshop, reshelving something. He came into the back room, picked up some books, shot Crowley a quick smile. 

_I would cut the thorns from a thousand roses, no magic, and fill your shop with bouquets._

He took some deep breaths, trying not to miracle the image into being. 

_And then I would cut the flowers from their stems and float them in the bath for you._

A bath with soaps, salts, bubbles, candles, steaming water. A bath with a naked angel, relaxed, guard down. Maybe even blissed out. No, that would come later. 

_And then I would rip off each petal one by one and make you a bed of them. A full size manger filled to the brim._

Aziraphale would sink into the petals, Crowley having dried him with the world's fluffiest, butteriest towel. Crowley would rub lotion into him, oil, if he wanted a massage. 

If his angel wanted him, he would give himself over. "Whatever you want" are dangerous words, but he couldn't think of anything he wouldn't be into if Aziraphale were.

Aziraphale came back in to pick up another armful of books. He picked one up, paused, set it back down. "What is that?"

"What?"

"Smells like a candle or a perfume. Flowery."

Oh, shit.

"Roses."

Fuck. What could he say to make Aziraphale drop it, stop questioning it, stop noticing it?

"Sorry, I must've passed gas."

Ah, fuck. Not exactly Aziraphale's sense of humor. 

A pause. Crowley could feel Aziraphale's bewilderment without looking at him. 

"Crowley, you don't do that, you're a demon."

"Well, if I did, it would obviously smell like roses."

A short laugh. "Because you're just that delightful?"

Crowley finally looked up from his phone to grin. "You know it."

"Don't I," said Aziraphale drily, picking up his books and turning to leave. But he was clearly fighting a smirk. 

Crowley blinked at his phone, torn between relief and mortification. Demonically miracling the scent of roses into a room due to sappy sexual fantasies… Passing gas… Same thing. Right?


	3. Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Be still my demonic heart."

_I should not be doing this,_ Aziraphale thought as he sat down with the book. Four feet away, Crowley was lounging on the sofa, reading something on his phone. _I should not try to read erotic poetry with Crowley right fucking here._

But that was the point, wasn't it? To get away with something kinky but so subtle, Crowley would hopefully never know. 

Besides, he was enrapt in whatever twitting and tumbling was going on today. 

So he opened the book of Pablo Neruda poetry to _Love Sonnet XI._

_"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair."_

_Oh, what hair,_ Aziraphale thought. _I want to run my fingers through it, tug it, bury my nose in it._

He couldn't help imagining saying it out loud. How would Crowley react? Would he find the whole thing stupid on principle? Or would Aziraphale be able to make him hard just by reading erotic poetry and providing commentary?

_Your voice. I want to hear you say everything you've been holding back. I want to hear you say my name in passion. I want to hear what unintelligible noises you would make at each of the many things I wish to do to you._

Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley's lazy lips. _Your mouth. I want to feel it everywhere._

The next line of the poem was: _"Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets."_

Less relevant. Crowley was the one who seemed to prowl. But oh, Aziraphale knew what it was like to be silent. 

_"Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day"_

As an angel, Aziraphale didn't know what it was like to starve, and he didn't know the agony humans experienced when they went without sleep. An eternal dawn wouldn't have messed with him in the slightest. 

_These metaphors don't work for me, but I do know what it's like to be plagued with dissatisfaction. 6000 years of you tempting me, Crowley. When will it be okay to give in?_

_"Now,"_ Crowley's voice in his head seemed to say. _"We're finally on our side. Heaven and Hell are leaving us alone. Why not now?"_

Because 6000 years of fear was hard to shake. 6000 years of habit, hard to break. It was a matter of nerve. 

So, for now, poetry. Secret, erotic poetry. 

_"I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps."_

This line made Aziraphale wonder if Neruda somehow knew Crowley, because what better way to describe how he walked? Those sinuous hips. At first, Aziraphale thought he walked strangely just because he was a snake and wasn't used to having legs. But he never did stop walking like he was on a balance beam, and boy, did it work for him.

_"I hunger for your sleek laugh,"_

Aziraphale looked up at the slender form lounging on his sofa. _From your sleeker chuckles to your raucous cackles, I want to cause them every time, all the time. I want to make you laugh, and I want to end every laugh by swallowing it._

_"your hands the color of a savage harvest,"_

Aziraphale wasn't sure what color a savage harvest was supposed to be, but he wanted to feel those hands everywhere. 

_"hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,_

_I want to eat your skin like a whole almond."_

Aziraphale liked almonds, but no matter how Crowley tasted, he knew he'd prefer it. He would suck on every one of his fingers just to tease him before swallowing down his cock. 

_"I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,"_

Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley and imagined explaining to him. _There are several ways to read this line, and I rather adore them all. The sunbeam could be arousal, and it could mean a desire to soak in that side of you in general. It could also mean a desire to taste what’s inside you._

Aziraphale imagined Crowley groaning in response. Perhaps he would whisper, "Angel…"

"What are you looking at?" Crowley asked from the sofa. 

Aziraphale startled so hard, he almost dropped the book. 

Crowley laughed. Aziraphale didn't understand. Crowley hadn't looked up from his phone. 

"Sorry?" he asked. 

"I can feel your eyes on me, angel. You have something you want to say?"

Damage control time. Aziraphale closed the book and put it face down on the desk. "You're right, I am having trouble focusing on my reading."

"As happy as I am to win against your books for once, that's not like you. So? Spill."

Crowley was worried. Guilt twisted in Aziraphale's gut and quashed his arousal. "Oh, my dear. I just…" What was something honest he could say? "These past few months, with our new freedom, have been wonderful, but I'm still adjusting, I'm afraid."

Crowley sat up and set his phone down. "Wait, what now? You haven't adjusted?"

"Well, of course not. Have you? Are you taking full advantage of your freedom?"

He shrugged. "I guess not really, no. It occurs to me I don't need to keep my flat looking like an evil lair anymore if I don't want, for one thing."

"See? What would you change?"

"I dunno, I guess I wouldn't mind if it were more comfortable. Brighter. More paintings. More plants. Maybe a rooftop garden. But wait, we were talking about you. What would _you_ change?"

"A rooftop garden sounds delightful! Would you grow vegetables?"

"Stop it. Ugh... Yes. I would. For you. Now what's making you unhappy, angel?"

Aziraphale considered a long moment. He could make up something about the bookshop, but it wasn't like he didn't stock any number of heretical texts. Of course, he didn't keep them on display. 

Ah. Perhaps… there was something he would change about the bookshop. 

"I never really wanted a bookshop, you know," he said softly. "On assignment in London, it made the most sense. But I'm more of a collector, really. I'd be happier if I could just close it up and call it my personal library."

Crowley seemed to think for a minute, and then he shrugged. "So do it. Take down the sign, the hours, the website. Just… live here. Undisturbed. Except when you want to be. Disturbed, that is."

Aziraphale couldn't suppress his smile. "Well, if I do, just know you are always a welcome disturbance."

Crowley snorted. "Be still my demonic heart."


	4. Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by that one meme ;)
> 
> "Be nice. How would you like getting banged against a desk?"

Crowley's frustration was reaching accidental-demonic-miracle levels. 

"I think I'm losing my powers," he grumbled to Aziraphale. 

"What?" Aziraphale responded, alarmed, until he noticed the old Gameboy that Crowley was messing with. "Oh, my dear, you know electronics are finnicky, when it comes to occult and ethereal forces. Especially those with batteries."

"The damn thing keeps dying right before I can evolve my Eevee. I want a fucking Umbreon."

"Are you playing that children's game with the superpowered pets? Not very demonic. My, you are adjusting quickly. Got that rooftop garden yet?"

"Nay, thou speakest too soon, Aziraphale. The entire Pokemon world is structured upon forcing said superpowered pets to fight each other. It's demented."

"Whatever you say, dear."

The Gameboy's screen lit up… and blacked out again. 

Crowley swore and gave it a few hard knocks against Aziraphale's desk. 

"Now, now," Aziraphale said, and Crowley knew he was in for it, the desk was an antique. But Aziraphale said, "Be nice. How would you like getting banged against a desk?"

Crowley suppressed a cackle. Aziraphale probably hadn't realized how that sounded. "Depends who did the banging. Are you offering?"

Crowley had always made jokes like this. For ages, Aziraphale would change the subject or even nope right out of the conversation, but ever since Crowley's long 19th century nap, Aziraphale would flirt back, seeming to enjoy the battle of wits involved. 

But of course, it never turned serious. 

Now, Aziraphale rolled his eyes but didn't play coy. "It would depend if you meant violently or sexually."

Crowley snorted. "Surprise me."

"Perhaps I will," Aziraphale said, reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a package of batteries. "How's this for a surprise?"

Crowley snatched them. "Tease."

"I am no such thing," Aziraphale said. "I'll have you know I've never left a lover dissatisfied."

Crowley fumbled the Gameboy and the batteries, which rolled onto the rug and the floor. 

"Oh, did I _surprise_ you?"

"You've never - we don't - we don't talk about that stuff!"

"You've mentioned some of your encounters."

"But you never did, so I stopped. W-why--?"

"Adjusting, my dear, that's all. I suppose there's no need for me to seem… angelically virginal… anymore."

Crowley spluttered nonsensically for a few seconds. "You never had to pretend around me. I'm not going to judge you."

"I know, my dear," Aziraphale said, sitting back down in his armchair and looking suddenly exhausted. "I know."

Crowley couldn't bring himself to push any further, although he was desperate to know who, when, where, how many, what kinks... He picked up the batteries, but he couldn't focus on the game anymore. Before long, he went back to his flat. 


	5. Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STORE CLOSING
> 
> LAST OPEN DAY WILL BE FEBRUARY 14, 2020
> 
> NO SALE

The more Crowley thought about it, the more he thought that Aziraphale's "angelically virginal" reason for dropping the I'm-sexually-experienced bomb like that was bullshit. There was another reason. And maybe it did have to do with adjusting to their new freedom. 

Or maybe that was wishful thinking. 

He shouldn't have been so surprised. Aziraphale had been on earth for six millennia, and he was a hedonist, and generally more curious than he'd ever admit. Crowley had basically known Aziraphale had experimented. It made sense. 

He also shouldn't have been so surprised to find a sign on the bookshop door the next morning, decorated in pink and red hearts. 

STORE CLOSING

LAST OPEN DAY WILL BE FEBRUARY 14, 2020

NO SALE

He snorted. "No sale." Of course. 

He shouldn't have been so surprised, once again, when he opened the door to find the shop done up like a Valentine's Day card. Garlands of hearts hung from the ceiling in dark red, shiny gold, and the occasional black accent. Vases of roses stood on doilies on small tables and the checkout counter, alongside crystal candy dishes full of sweets. 

For a panicked moment, he thought he'd concocted the decor on accident - but he had never envisioned the garlands of hearts. 

Their color scheme was particularly interesting. Black, red, and gold. Why no pink? Why black? It was strange, but it looked amazing.

"What do you think?" Aziraphale asked from the doorway to the back room. "Did I go overboard?"

_Yes, and I love it, don't change a thing._

"I don't think Cupid himself could've done any better."

There. Safely interpretable as sarcastic. 

Aziraphale gave him a withering look. "I thought you'd be happy I'm taking the adjustment more seriously."

There it was. "The adjustment," as opposed to "the arrangement."

Crowley found himself stepping closer to the angel - uncomfortably close.

"Why exactly should _I_ be happy about it, angel?"

_What the heaven am I doing oh Satan fuck -_

Aziraphale just raised an eyebrow. "Because it makes me happy, and you care about me, you old serpent."

Crowley fought not to instinctively blanch and insist he didn't care, not anymore than necessary, demons didn't _care_ , _care_ was a four-letter word…

But. The adjustment. He didn't have to play that game. 

So he met his eyes. "I don't think you're happy… with this particular adjustment." He stepped back and raised his arms to motion to the bookshop. 

Aziraphale put on an air of mild amusement. "You don't?"

"I think you're _ecstatic._ "

Aziraphale chuckled. "Not a bad assessment. There are few things in the world that could make me happier."

Crowley snorted and looked away innocently. "Like?"

"You know, I hadn't really thought about it. On a completely unrelated note, we should do something to celebrate."

Completely unrelated, huh? "What are you thinking?"

"Perhaps a picnic."

Crowley's heart stuttered. Was this _the_ picnic? It had to be. But… "In February?"

Aziraphale was undeterred. "Well, yes."

"I suppose we could have an indoor picnic. Spread a blanket on the floor or a coffee table..."

"Nonsense," Aziraphale chided. "St. James Park is -"

"Is covered in snow!"

"So we use a few miracles to keep warm and dry."

Crowley spluttered. "The humans will think we're nuts!"

“When have you ever had a problem with that?”

Crowley deflated. “You have a point. Still, it’s not like you to have such a chaotic idea. What on earth do we eat for a picnic in the snow?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m thinking pie.”

  
  



	6. Perfect Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just sit your fine ass down in the snow and spread ‘em.”

They met at St. James Park at two in the afternoon the next day. The sky was clear but the air was freezing, and the pavement was salted but the grassy areas had a good six inches of snow. 

Aziraphale preened. Crowley had called the idea “chaotic.” That was a high compliment, coming from him.

Aziraphale spread out the red checkered blanket. 

"This is ridiculous," Crowley deadpanned, holding two casserole dishes full of pie in a large quilted carrier. 

"I've waterproofed the blanket, but you might as well waterproof your pants, to be on the safe side," Aziraphale said, taking a seat by the blanket and setting down the large (silver, non-tartan) thermos full of hot cocoa. 

Crowley laid out the pies - a shepherd’s pie he’d made and a steak and kidney pie made by Aziraphale. Aziraphale miracled the snow beneath the blanket into ice so the dishes wouldn’t immediately melt through.

He then poured Crowley a mug of cocoa and waited for his reaction.

He was quickly rewarded. “Whoa, angel, what did you spike this with?”

“Bailey’s.”

“I like the way you think.”

After they dug in and spent a few minutes discussing and complimenting each other’s cooking, Aziraphale found himself beaming. "We should come up with more things like this we can do together."

"You mean ridiculous, chaotic things?"

"Well, yes. Adventures and harmless mischiefs that take only a handful of subtle miracles. What things like that would you like to do, without hell checking up on you?"

"To be honest, I've always loved the idea of positive pranks," Crowley said. "Sneaky things that leave people happy but all kinds of confused. Like suddenly miracling a nice outfit onto a homeless person, or hacking PA systems to play good music, or - you get the idea. And don’t you dare  _ aww  _ at me or call me sweet or anything like that, I just gave myself enough of the heebie jeebies.”

Aziraphale kept his tone as matter-of-fact as possible. “It is sweet, though.” 

“Ngk.” Crowley chugged his cocoa. 

“You want to know a similar secret desire of mine?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Go for it.”

“I want to follow emergency vehicles, sometimes. See if I can smooth over situations with small miracles. Like tangling the laces of a burglar, or popping the tire of a getaway car. If I assumed my true form, with the wheels of fire and all the eyes, I could even put some killers in a state of mind that would make them easy to catch. Heaven occasionally allowed me to do things like that, but in general, such miracles were considered frivolous. Gabriel always told me to -”

Crowley was grinning slowly, in a way that made excitement and dread swirl together in Aziraphale’s stomach. 

“What?”

“You want to play  _ superhero _ .”

“More like guardian angel,” Aziraphale said primly.

Crowley snorted. “No, you’re talking about an avenging angel. That can be your superhero name. I’ll make you a cape. A whole costume.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aziraphale sighed. 

They continued brainstorming ways that Aziraphale could enact justice for a while, and then they circled back to Crowley and his befuddling random acts of kindness. The conversation lulled a bit as they finished their meal. 

Suddenly, Crowley broke into a smile. “I dare you to make a snow angel.”

Aziraphale’s heart warmed at the childishness. “Only if you make one and give it little horns.”

Crowley smirked. “Are you calling me horny?”

“Are you suffering from a guilty conscience?”

“Just sit your fine ass down in the snow and spread ‘em.”

Well, damn. Aziraphale stifled any reaction. Instead, he miracled himself a parka and pulled up the hood. "Same to you, my dear."

Crowley laughed and fell back into the snow in a stiff-plank way that would have knocked the wind out of a human. 

“Really, now,” Aziraphale chided, sitting down in the snow more carefully. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Aziraphale lay down in the snow and spread his arms. He was tempted to let his wings out and see what kind of impression they would make in the snow, but they were already garnering enough stares.

When he finished, he sat up to find Crowley crouched in his own snow angel, drawing curving horns with his gloved fingers.

Aziraphale padded over and pulled a pen from his pants pocket. He used it to draw a large speech bubble aimed at the snow demon's mouth. 

"Whaaaat are you doing?" Crowley asked dubiously. 

Aziraphale wrote in the speech bubble: WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGO?

"Now it's you," he announced proudly. 

Crowley snorted, but he was grinning. "It needs a snow Bentley."

"And some snow house plants."

"And yours needs a snow bookshop - or rather, personal library."

"A snow desk throne."

"A snow flaming sword."

Aziraphale affected a condescending air. "Now you're just being ridiculous."

Crowley, still sitting on his knees inside his snow demon, scoffed and snapped his fingers. 

"What did you just do?"

"Packed up the picnic," he said innocently. "No hurry, just didn't want you to keep straining yourself to keep the miracles going."

Aziraphale fought the urge to ruffle his hair and call him a sweetheart. 

But then he thought… why fight it? He was meant to be adjusting. 

As soon as the deed was done, Crowley scooped up a snowball and rose to step backwards for leverage. "Call me that again."

"It's not a four-letter word," Aziraphale goaded, then raised his arm to stave off the snowball. 

Crowley was smoothing his ruffled hair. "And do you know how long it takes me to get my hair to cooperate?"

"A snap of the fingers?"

"Only sometimes!" He gagged. "Ugh, that just made me feel grosser than the  _ lick butt _ mishap."

Aziraphale softened. "Did I go too far?"

Too fast?

Mischief sparked in Crowley's eyes as he stalked closer. "Nah, it's just that you're such a hypocrite."

"Hypocrite?"

"Yeah." Crowley stood close. "Pot, kettle, and all that."

Aziraphale's heart pounded. Crowley didn't seem to be just accepting the compliment… He was throwing it back at him. 

And he was getting so close.

He reached up toward Aziraphale's face, and Aziraphale could envision how the next few seconds might go - Crowley cupping his face and leaning in to kiss him. 

Crowley's gaze dropped from Aziraphale's mouth to his shoulder, and that wandering hand brushed some snow off his parka. 

Crowley stepped back and Aziraphale did too, needing a few seconds to catch his breath. He glanced over towards the pavement, where a group of four teenagers all quickly looked away. 

"Let's get out of here before we go viral," Crowley said, stomping back to the casserole carrier, now sunk halfway into the snow.

As he walked back, he noticed a speech bubble next to his snow angel. "I'M A RAGING HEDONIST."

So this was the retaliatory miracle from earlier. 

"Like it?" Crowley snickered. 

Aziraphale shrugged. "Well, it's not wrong."

Crowley cackled. Aziraphale thought of the Neruda poem, how he wanted to swallow that laugh with a kiss.

"I'm loving this new side of you," Crowley laughed. 

But that was Aziraphale's line. 

They'd known, hadn't they? Who the other might be if they were free. They'd suspected. But each of these tiny baby steps toward being their real selves was… gorgeously uplifting. It should have been bittersweet to lose their former patterns and put-on personalities. Why wasn't it?

If Crowley had touched him, kissed him, just now, this particular outing would have been perfect. 

  
  



	7. My angel is the centrefold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A banter-free chapter? Nooooooo
> 
> On the other hand, porn.

Crowley stopped miracling himself warm on the way back to the bookshop. He needed the brisk air to cool his head. He had almost done it. Almost kissed Aziraphale.

And in that moment, the way Aziraphale had looked at him…

At his mouth. 

He hated himself for chickening out, but when he saw Aziraphale looking at him like that, his heart had done the Grinch thing, busting up its little framework. He got overwhelmed. 

Aziraphale had looked at him like that before. Many times. And now that Crowley knew it was the look on his face when he was about to be kissed…

Was this what hope felt like? Was it valid, this soul-deep suspicion that Aziraphale might have been longing too, all this time? That he never truly meant all the heartbreaking things he'd said?

Sometimes, Crowley thought he wasn't in love with Aziraphale in reality as much as he was in love with who Aziraphale could be - who Aziraphale seemed to want to be. 

An avenging angel bastard. Crowley smiled.

Still somewhat dazed and overwhelmed, he headed back to his flat shortly after dark. As he drove, he replayed the almost-kiss in his mind. He was almost stable enough to let himself imagine how it might have gone differently. The skin of Aziraphale's cheek under his fingertips, the softness of Aziraphale's lips on his own, their slide, their give, the heat of his mouth contrasting the cold bite of the air. Maybe Aziraphale would have put his hands on Crowley's waist. Maybe they'd have wandered. 

Maybe Crowley would have become a different type of overwhelmed entirely and tackled his angel into the snow. They could have laughed, kissed, rolled, wrestled. 

That was a thought. Crowley had seen Aziraphale lift things he definitely shouldn't have been able to. 

And all of this fantasizing didn't feel tinged with darkness anymore. It was bright. It was  _ possible _ . 

In his flat, Crowley headed for his desk throne. He settled into it and let his imagination take him. The first image that came to mind was Aziraphale spread out in the snow, making the snow angel. He'd just lain there for a second, wiggling as if to get comfortable. Crowley's imagination recreated the scene without Aziraphale's clothes. 

Damn. That splayed out, naked angel in the snow was worthy of a magazine centerfold. Crowley mentally pounced, undoing his trousers to feel his cock through his silk boxers. Even this seemed bathed in light somehow. He had never felt so certain Aziraphale wanted to be fantasized about, wanked to. By Crowley, in particular, on top of it all. 

He knew. It all added up. Thousands of little hints over millennia, crystalizing in that expression on Aziraphale's face when Crowley went to kiss him. 

Aziraphale wanted him. 

And it meant something. How could it not, the way they cared about each other?

He vanished his clothes with a snap and hiked one leg up on the arm of the throne. His hand met the sensitive flesh of his cock, and it was so easy to imagine Aziraphale was the one touching him, now that Crowley’s paradigm had shifted into one where it was so likely Aziraphale would  _ want _ to. 

What exactly would Aziraphale want, in bed? Crowley could name several possible desires that would align particularly well with his own. He wanted to rub his hands up Aziraphale's thighs and down his sides, massaging. He wanted to sink his body against the angel's. He wanted to bite him, gently, all over most of his body - and viciously suck on the rest. 

But most of all, he wanted to learn. What would make Aziraphale relax, tense, squirm, moan, gasp, squeal? Would Crowley be able to get him to curse? Say his name?

Crowley spread his hand on his chest to tease his nipples, imagining different combinations of possible actions and reactions. A bite to Aziraphale's belly might earn a squirm, spidery fingertips a squeal. Breathing in his ear might make him gasp. 

He kept returning to the image of Aziraphale spread-eagle in the snow, arms over his head. Was Aziraphale the type of hedonist who loved all sensations or only the clearly pleasant ones? Would he want the cold bite of the snow on his skin, or would he use a miracle to make the snow feel warm, like sand on a summer beach? Crowley would happily perform that miracle for him. 

What if Aziraphale let his wings out, sending up a dusting of snow on either side of them, feathers stroking impressions into the snow?

Crowley's pleasure crested. He wanted to pin the angel's arms down against his wings, sink his cock into the angel's plush body at all the right angles to drive Aziraphale into writhing, desperate, blissful madness. He wanted the same done to him. The crest dragged on in a way he could normally only accomplish with a more feminine effort, and when the wave broke, a growling groan ripped its way up his throat. 

He came down floaty and sticky and happy. He snapped away the mess, and slowly his head began to clear. 

He might not be limited to this anymore. Wanking, fantasizing. Just a few hours earlier, Aziraphale would have let Crowley kiss him. 

He needed a plan.


	8. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's not it, it was just… you know… demon pride. Trying to be cool. Couldn't let Hastur and Beez think the humans saw me as a nerd."

Aziraphale didn't know what to think of Crowley's odd behavior after the snow picnic. He'd seemed distant, dazed, and he'd left the bookshop early. Had something upset him?

The next day, when Crowley arrived at the bookshop door, his eyes were alive and alert again, and they seemed to fix on Aziraphae's intensely. 

"How was your night, angel?"

Oh, that was a new question. They'd asked each other about their day before, but never their night. 

"It was lovely. I've been catching up on the works of Haruki Murakami. You?"

"Yeah. I, uh, relaxed. And slept a bit."

"I'm glad you feel better. You seemed a bit distressed last night." 

"I wouldn't say I was distressed. Tell me more about Murakami."

Was he asking for recommendations? Adjusting, indeed.

To Aziraphale's near-shock, Crowley spent most of the day absorbed in 1Q84 instead of his phone. 

That afternoon, when Aziraphale closed up shop and went to join Crowley in the back room, Crowley didn't look up but said, "Sit next to me?"

"Sure, my dear boy." He expected Crowley to ask about something confusing him in the book, but minutes ticked by and they sipped their wine, and Crowley just kept reading, legs scrunched up under him on his end of the sofa. 

So Aziraphale got a book out as well.

An hour later, Crowley put the book on the coffee table, stretched, looped his legs over the back of the sofa so he was on it upside-down, and picked the book back up to continue reading. 

"My dear, you're being weird," Aziraphale blurted. 

"I am not," Crowley said. 

"Well, I suppose you've never been able to sit properly in a chair, but why have you decided to read?"

"Good book," Crowley muttered. 

"I know. I believe you. I recommended it. Of course it's good. But I've recommended hundreds of good books over the years and--"

"Yeah, so, you know what a Kindle is, right?"

Aziraphale huffed. "Horrid things."

Crowley, still upside-down with his head hanging off the sofa, put the book down and fished his phone from his pocket. "Did you know Kindle has an app you can get on any smartphone?"

"Well, no, what does that mean?"

"It means I have my own little  _ personal library  _ on my phone. Look." He handed him the phone. 

Aziraphale scrolled through the list. Apart from some sci-fi books and graphic novels, most of the books in Crowley's library were ones he'd recommended. Aziraphale gawked at 10 years of books he'd tried to get Crowley to read. 

"And you've read them?" he asked skeptically. 

"Most of them, yeah. Haven't finished a few."

Aziraphale couldn't resist testing. "Did You finish Brave New World?"

"Yes."

"How does it end?"

"Orgy."

"Who is the villain in Pride and Prejudice?" 

"Do you mean Wickham, Collins, or Lady Catherine?"

"What is the peculiar weapon used in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime?"

"You mean the fork?"

Aziraphale was stunned. He should have been happy, but this emotion bubbling up in him was more like rage. "What the actual fuck?"

Crowley cringed and sniggered at the same time. "Language, angel."

"Don't you even start! We could have been discussing literature all this time, and you… Do you not like talking to me about books?"

"That's not it, it was just… you know… demon pride. Trying to be cool. Couldn't let Hastur and Beez think the humans saw me as a nerd."

Aziraphale still felt hurt. "You didn't have to hide it from me. I wouldn't have judged you. I could've kept it secret."

"I know." Crowley rotated himself upright, leaning his head back on the sofa. "Just call it a stupid insecurity, okay? I've come clean now. We can discuss all you want."

"Oh, my dear." Aziraphale reached out toward Crowley's arm but caught himself. 

But Crowley had noticed. He looked from Aziraphale's hand to his eyes. "You can touch me if you want, you know."

Crowley didn't sound flirty or facetious or even suggestive. He was serious. He took Aziraphale's hovering hand and wound their fingers together. 

Aziraphale's heart thudded in his ears. 

Crowley rested their hands on the sofa between them and squeezed. "What book do you want to talk about first?"

  
  



	9. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In conclusion," Aziraphale said, his tone finally warming, "you may no longer be foul, but you are still a fiend."

The book discussions dominated their conversations for several days, until Crowley finally got worn out and started being a smartass. After a few failed attempts to change the subject, he got Aziraphale believing that he (Crowley) held several offensive opinions. He quickly realized this wasn't very funny and more hurting his own feelings, so he owned up. ("I've been yanking your chain, angel. I don't really think Toni Morrison ripped off Faulkner, I admit that there's more to The Divine Comedy than just Bible fanfiction, yes, the Nobel prize need to branch out in terms of diversity…")

The bad news was, Aziraphale was furious. The good news was, the hand-holding had become a pattern over the last few days and during all of Aziraphale's ranting and lecturing, he didn't let go, even raising their joined hands a few times as he gestured. 

"In conclusion," Aziraphale said, his tone finally warming, "you may no longer be foul, but you are still a fiend."

Crowley grinned. "What happened to sweetheart?" 

Aziraphale seemed to think a second. "Fiendish sweetheart."

"Ngk." Crowley would never get used to it, even at his own prompting. "Just don't ruffle my hair again."

Aziraphale smirked. "You said I could touch you if I wanted to."

Crowley gave him a withering look, trying to ignore his pounding heart. "I didn't specify how."  _ Not that it matters.  _

"Care to?" The words came out of Aziraphale's mouth a little squeaky. He cleared his throat. "No hair ruffling…" He raised one finger. "What else?"

Oh, this was a dangerous conversation. Aziraphale could not possibly be ready to hear that Crowley would let him do whatever he wanted to him. And more immediately pressing was that the hair ruffle was not actually on any limit list. Having his hair messed with felt good. Being teased felt good. Seeing Aziraphale let loose and be a condescending bastard felt good. Complaining was just part of the game. 

Crowley was tempted to pace the room to give himself time to think, but he didn't want to let go of Aziraphale's hand. 

"I'm not going to give you  _ rules,  _ angel."

"Why not? Boundaries are healthy."

Crowley didn't want more freaking boundaries between them. How to stall?

"Okay, fine, we'll figure that out later. For now, if you want something, just do it, okay?"

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. Curious, Crowley looked up to meet his eyes. 

"Fine," Aziraphale said, holding the contact. "Then… for now… that goes both ways."

Crowley was sure he was misunderstanding. "What?"

"I'm basically asking you to take what you want from me in terms of touch, same as you just asked me."

Fuck, why did Aziraphale have to be so smart?

"Unless," Aziraphale continued, "that's not what you meant?"

He was giving him an out. 

But he couldn't take it. 

"Do  _ you  _ mean it?" Crowley asked. "If I do?"

He braced himself for an "Of course not, what are you thinking?" 

But Aziraphale went with a different type of bastardry. He shrugged, leaning closer to Crowley. "Well, I have a theory about something you might want, judging from what happened at the end of our picnic."

Why?! Why did he have to be so smart?

No point denying it. "You wanted it, too." A little of Crowley's marvel fell into the words. 

Aziraphale didn't flinch. "Then what's stopping you?"

Crowley's free hand floated up to Aziraphale's face, moving just enough to feel the sensation of skin and stubble. Aziraphale's. He'd never touched his face before. Aziraphale's eyes floated closed, his mouth slightly parted. 

He'd been right. Aziraphale wanted this. 

Before he could follow through, he had to check something. He leaned their foreheads together. "Are you scared?"

"Of you?"

"No. Heaven. Hell. Falling."

Aziraphale's eyes opened briefly. "It was far crueler of me to kiss humans, who I could never develop a lasting relationship with, than to kiss you."

Crowley sucked in an emotional breath and latched their mouths together, his lips framing Aziraphale's bottom one. And held there. 

A wave of something more sweet than bitter moved through him, and the bitter part was comprised entirely of longing for more, and he hoped Aziraphale could feel the same thing. 

The wave pulsed through his nervous system, seeming to disrupt his bodily electrical grid with shatters of sparks that left him not-exactly-deactivated. He dared move his lips just slightly, suck just barely, and pulled back. 

"You okay?" he asked. 

Aziraphale chuckled. "I would pick a stronger positive word than  _ okay.  _ You?"

Crowley closed his eyes in relief. "Same."

Pressure on his mouth startled him for only a second. Aziraphale was chasing the kiss.

_ Yes. Yes, yes, yes.  _

Their lips moved together, experimenting with pressure and tension, moisture and friction, and then Aziraphale's tongue teased at Crowley's upper lip. He let it in only to meet it with his own, which fluttered against it in a snakish way that Crowley half expected to startle. Instead, Aziraphale made a little  _ mmm _ sound and seemed to melt closer, hands tracing up Crowley's arms. 

Crowley could do this forever. 

  
  



	10. Champagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not to quote Billie Eilish or anything - hic - but duh.”

Aziraphale let his hands wander up Crowley's arms, clad as they were in thin black fabric. He stopped just past his elbows, holding on a little tighter than necessary, to control himself. His mind spun with ideas of where this could go, but Crowley's clever tongue dipped into his mouth and brought him back to the moment. 

He sucked on that tongue as it drew out, nipped at Crowley's lower lip in retaliation for removing it. Waves of want and  _ yes, yes, finally _ took sporadic turns coursing over him. 

He didn't need to rush. He didn't need to be greedy, no matter what kind of blank check Crowley had intended to write him in terms of touch. 

Crowley nipped back. Yes, this was beyond perfect. 

"Let me…" Crowley said between kisses. "...take you… to dinner… tomorrow.... Ritz."

"Sounds wonderful, my dear." Their foreheads rested together for a breathless second, then Crowley's hands vanished from Aziraphale's hand and cheek. Aziraphale opened his eyes to find Crowley standing, putting on his coat. 

"Right. Tomorrow, angel."

Aziraphale was a bit bewildered. "Tomorrow, dear."

*

Aziraphale couldn't focus on reading all evening or the next day. It was a Sunday, but when one p.m. rolled around with no sign of Crowley, he opened the shop for a few hours just to divert himself. 

Crowley finally sauntered in around five. He was dressed up a bit more than usual, with a garnet button-down underneath his charcoal vest and sleek black jacket. 

“Hey, angel. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Sure, just let me close up.”

Crowley stepped closer, reaching for Aziraphale’s arms, and pulled him into a soft kiss. Aziraphale felt like the floor was falling out from beneath his feet. Kissing on the sofa after an intense conversation was one thing. Casually kissing hello bespoke of a domesticity that made his heart ring like a bell.

For a moment, he was tempted to grab Crowley by the hair and keep him against his lips, turning the kiss passionate. But that might have ruined the domestic effect, so he held back.

*

At the Ritz, they sat close together on the same side of the table. When the champagne arrived, Aziraphale asked, “What shall we toast today?”

“The adjustment,” Crowley said. 

“The adjustment,” Aziraphale echoed. 

Their glasses clinked. 

Crowley was still a bit overwhelmed with the literary discussion, so they reminisced. They laughed about the time they pretended to haunt an old miser and fed the story to Dickens. Crowley gave Aziraphale a hard time, yet again, about how he forgot to inform Mary and Joseph that the reserved inn rooms in Bethlehem were for them. Despite Crowley’s insistence, Aziraphale refused to believe Crowley had met a type of being called a Time Lord.*

Some scrumptious food and three bottles of champagne later, Crowley shakily reached for Aziraphale’s hand on the table and squeezed it. “So. So. What does this mean?”

“Whaddus what mean?” Aziraphale asked.

“The kissing,” Crowley whispered as if scandalized.

Aziraphale laughed. “It means we kiss now.”

“Not to quote Billie Eilish or anything -  _ hic  _ \- but  _ duh _ .” 

“Who?”

“A bebop singer,” Crowley slurred. “No, but like, what are we?”

“Good question. I suppose I’m not much of an angel anymore, and you’re not much of a demon.”

“No, like, us.” Crowley pointed back and forth between them. “What do we call this?”

“Do we have to call it something?”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah. Like… boyfriends?”

“We’re not boys. Men. Male.”

Crowley scoffed. “Well if the humans ask, can we call it that?”

“That would be lying.”

“Then what do you want to call us?”

_ Lovers. Soulmates.  _ He couldn’t say those things, not yet. “I don’t know. Queer?”

Crowley frowned and nodded. “That would be true in more ways than one. But like, our relationship.”

“We kiss now,” Aziraphale said, unsure what else would be true.

“But whaddus that mean?”

“Why do we have to label it? Labels are for humans.”

“So is kissing. So is  _ food _ .”

Aziraphale pointed a finger at Crowley. “You take that back.”

Crowley chortled. “No, come on, tell me -  _ hic  _ \- what you want.”

“Crowley, I can’t have this conversation while I’m this drunk.”

“Why not?” Crowley pushed. 

Aziraphale was getting irritated. “Because it’s a sensitive subject and I don’t want to verbally vomit something inappropriate.”

Crowley giggled. “You said vomit.”

Aziraphale worked as much gentleness as he could into his voice while remaining firm. “We are not having this conversation right now.”

Crowley looked down at the table. “Too fast?”

“Just… not the right time.”

Crowley threw his napkin onto his plate and stood. “Too fucking fast. Everything I do.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, getting up to chase him. “Sober up, we’ll talk.”

“Don’ feel like it,” Crowley said. “Dinner’s paid for. See you later.”

Aziraphale cringed and sat back down. Best to let him go cool off. He could fix this. They would fix this.

  
  
  


*These are all things Neil Gaiman has tweeted about.


	11. Love Token

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t take a bath with Michael or Beelzebub or anyone who was there, been there done that.”

Crowley took a bus home, leaving the Bentley at the Ritz. He hoped Aziraphale would get himself home safely, warmly, without walking or having to take a circuitous bus route like he was doing. But Crowley was trying to keep himself in a public place so he could check his temper and give himself time to cool his head. 

Aziraphale didn’t want anything to change. Of course he didn’t. They were just friends who kissed now. Probably not even best friends, considering how Aziraphale had acted like he didn’t know what Crowley was talking about in the pub on doomsday.

Maybe not even friends at all, if he’d blown it. 

_  
*_

As soon as he stepped through the door to his flat, he found himself nauseous, so he finally sobered up. 

_Oh, god. What did I do?_

_I lost my temper at Aziraphale._

__

__

_I left him there._

What kind of gesture could he make to make up for this? He’d been showering Aziraphale with gifts since Armageddidn’t, giddy that he could, so he had nothing stashed away for an emergency like this. No books, no wines.

He flopped into his desk throne.

Well, there was something. 

On the corner of his desk sat a little yellow rubber duck with blue eyes and a bow tie. He’d meant to give it to Aziraphale as a silly gift, but he’d grown attached to the little thing and kept it on his desk for a few weeks now.

He miracled up a red gift bag and scrawled a note on the card. 

_Sorry for pushing. Been holding onto this for a while. It’s not my best romantic gesture, and it’s not from the nine circles of hell, but it made me think of you. Call me when you’re not mad anymore? -C_

He vanished it, demonically ensuring it would appear on Aziraphale’s antique desk.

It was a start. He could find other little things to calm Aziraphale with, a whole series of them, and wear him down little by little. 

Maybe.

The phone rang. 

Crowley picked up before the first ring had finished. “Aziraphale?”

A dramatic squeak answered.

Crowley stared at the phone. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. “That was the duck. Thank you for him. We are going to be taking a bath together soon.”

The way he said it, it didn’t sound like he was talking about him and the duck.

“S-sorry, got confused,” Crowley stammered. “You’re not mad?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m not mad. We were drunk. I’m not entirely not at fault, either.”

Crowley couldn’t help himself. “Nice double-negative.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, ignoring the sarcasm. “What shall we name this little guy?” Another loud squeak sounded across the line.

“Aziraphale Junior,” Crowley deadpanned. 

“Oh, posh,” Aziraphale said. “I’m not going to name him after myself. Something having to do with both of us, I think. Or having to do with my little bath in hell.”

“You said Michael was there. Or a demonic name would be funny for such a cute little duck.”

“I can’t take a bath with Michael or Beelzebub or anyone who was there, been there done that.”

Crowley cringed. “Good point. How about James, for the park ducks?”

“Oh, I love that. James and I are going to go take a bath now, I think. But let’s talk tomorrow, okay? Let’s have that conversation sober.”

Crowley took a deep breath. “Okay. Sounds good.” He worked a little suggestiveness into his voice. “Have fun.”

“Oh, James and I will have a lovely time.”

Crowley laughed as he put down the receiver. How had he become jealous of a rubber duck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the duck. 
> 
> https://images.app.goo.gl/CwLAtcDNWUXPLoYr6


	12. Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you know I’m naked? I could be wearing underclothes like I did in the holy water bath.”
> 
> “Are you?”
> 
> “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to dial this one back a bit ::fans self:: Crowley kept word vomiting in a way I ironically ended up deeming... too fast.

Aziraphale settled into a lavender-scented bath and let James float about in the water. He looked at the little duck. Crowley had not only remembered Aziraphale’s exact words about rubber ducks in the nine circles of hell, he had mentioned holding onto the little guy for a while. Was he embarrassed to give a childish gift, or was there another reason he’d kept it?

He’d seemed so upset.

Aziraphale reached for his mobile. Crowley had talked him into getting it a few months before, shortly after Almostalypse. It was a bulky thing in a distressed leather case with classical music chimes and ringtones. 

He called Crowley again.

Crowley picked up on the third ring. “Angel?” His voice was a bit breathless. 

“Hello, my dear. I wanted to call back. It occurred to me that I treated things rather lightheartedly earlier and didn’t really check in with you. Are you okay?”

A sigh. “Yeah, angel. I’m okay.”

“I saw the Bentley on the street. How did you get home?”

“Bus. You?” He sounded so sheepish.

“Cab. Not a big deal.” Aziraphale absentmindedly picked up the rubber duck and squeezed it. “James says hello.”

“Wait. Angel, are you in the bath?”

Oh, dear. “Would that be a problem?”

Crowley groaned. “Aziraphale. You can’t call me when you’re naked.”

“How do you know I’m naked? I could be wearing underclothes like I did in the holy water bath.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Fuck, angel. I’ll let you go, just -”

“No, no, you don’t, my dear, I’m not done with you,” Aziraphale chided, unable to keep the smile from his voice.

“What do you need?”

Aziraphale really just wanted to keep him on the phone, so he scrambled for a topic. “I’m actually thinking of sleeping a bit. One of the great things about being an immortal being is one can take a nap in the bathtub without fearing for one’s life. Or even getting pruney, if one doesn’t wish.”

“You need advice on sleeping?”

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Can’t you Google it or something?” Crowley whined. 

“You know very well that I can’t. Are you that distressed to be talking to a naked angel?”

“Distressed? Not exactly. More like flabbergasted."

"Badly so?"

“Well, no. Have you really never slept before?”

Sharp subject change. Aziraphale decided to let it slide. 

“Not on purpose. It's happened on accident a few times. How do I make it happen intentionally?”

“I can already tell you’re going to try too hard. The whole trick is relaxing, letting your mind wander. There’s no actual discipline to it.”

“But you used to put Warlock to bed all the time. How did you get him to sleep?”

“Bedtime stories, mostly. Some lullabies. There’s no way a story would work on you. You’d pay too much attention.”

“You sang him lullabies?”

“They weren’t exactly normal lullabies.”

“Oh, dear. Did you sing him Queen?”

“No! I sang him songs about the apocalypse.”

“You didn’t!”

“Of course I did! I was trying to raise an antichrist, and do it right in case hell checked in. You were the good influence. I couldn’t be caught singing Skidamarink a Dinky Dink.”

“So did Satan come up with them or did you write them yourself?”

“You think Lucifer would ever write a lullaby, even a demented one? Of course I wrote them."

“Hmm.”

“What?” Crowley deadpanned. 

“Crowley, dear… sing me a lullaby.”

Crowley huffed. “I can’t just come up with one on the spot.”

“Sure you can. I believe in you.”

“Fine," Crowley groaned. "Give me a minute."

Aziraphale waited. He was starting to feel lightheaded, so he cooled the water ever-so-slightly. He tried relaxing, letting his mind wander, like Crowley had said, but he had to admit, he was tense, knowing Crowley could hear any move he made. Could probably hear the slow, deep breaths he was taking.

“Okay, I’ve got it.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Serenade me, my dear.”

So Crowley sang.

_“Go to sleep and dream of Twain,_

_“Joyce and Dickens, Will and Jane,_

_“Sleep so soundly, like a child,_

_“But don’t you dare go dream of Wilde.”_

Aziraphale barked a laugh. “I never mentioned Oscar to you, how did you know?”

“Might’ve heard some gossip.”

“Well, please trust that any such dreams would center around you these days.”

“Angel,” Crowley groaned. “I-I need to go. I don’t want to end up doing anything that would qualify as too fast right now.”

Crowley was right. Their discussion needed to happen before anything else did. Anything else being phone sex or Crowley miracling himself over here for non-phone sex. 

He sighed. “I suppose.” 

Wait. Crowley had been a little breathless when he answered the phone. 

“Hold on, Crowley. Do you happen to be in a state of undress as well?”

An indignant, high-pitched noise sounded through the phone.

Aziraphale laughed and found himself hardening in the water. What had Crowley been saying about discipline? 

“I suppose that gives me something to dream about,” Aziraphale said. “Goodnight, Crowley.”

A breath. “Night, angel.”


	13. Grand Gesture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He mimed an explosion over his heart, complete with a sound effect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. This thing. This thing very abruptly devolved into crack. Just. I'm sorry.

Crowley was at the bookshop at sunrise the next morning, coffee and pastries in hand. The coffee would keep him alert for this conversation. The pastries would butter up Aziraphale. 

He'd resisted the urge to dress up, keeping to skinny jeans and a button-up with a leather jacket. 

Right. He could do this. Without liquid courage this time. 

He knocked before trying the handle. The bookshop was closed so early, of course, but it always let him in. 

Aziraphale emerged from the back room. "You're here early, dear. Oh, you brought croissants! Thank you."

"Couldn't sleep." _Wanked, though. Quite a bit. All thinking about you. Did you get off, in the bathtub? After? Did you think about me?_

He couldn't say any of that. Yet. "Could you?"

"I'm afraid I didn't either," Aziraphale said. "I confess I never planned on it. The topic was a bit of a ploy to keep you on the phone."

Crowley's heart leapt into his throat. "Why?"

"Well, that's what we need to talk about, isn't it? Soberly, this time."

Crowley was a little lost, but he took his usual seat on the sofa, and Aziraphale followed, reaching for his hand. 

"You seem like you know where you want to start," Crowley said. Fear pricked the edges of his vision, making it swim. This was it.

"Yes," Aziraphale breathed. "Crowley."

Crowley forced himself to hold eye contact and brace for whatever was coming.

"First I want to say no matter what we decide this is, or decide to call it, and no matter how that changes, I want to always, at _minimum_ , be your friend and ally. I haven't done the best job of it in the past, but I am here for you now, and I will be going forward."

Crowley's heart swelled in his throat. "Same," he choked out. 

"Do you understand me, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked. "I'm saying I'm committed to our side. I'm saying… Oh, god, there's so much I want to say."

"Aziraphale," Crowley said, squeezing his hand. "You don't have to commit to anything you don't want to."

"That's just it, Crowley, in a way, it's not even a decision, it's just the way I feel. And in another way, it absolutely is a decision, and one I'm proud to be making. I kept you on the phone last night because during the past 6000 some odd years, I've only ever become more fascinated with you. I've only ever wanted more and more of you. Still with me?"

"Yes, angel," Crowley said, fighting tears. _I'm with you and trying not to jump you, even though there's probably a "but" coming._

"Good. So. If the humans ask, I propose we say we are in a romantic relationship and leave it at that."

Crowley couldn't believe his ears. No "but." Just _romantic relationship._

"Romantic," he found himself echoing.

Aziraphale frowned. "Do you disagree? Oh, dear, did I misunder--"

Crowley couldn't hold back anymore. He gave his body permission to move an inch, and it took a mile. Or, more accurately, it took a pounce onto Aziraphale's lap and started kissing him. 

Aziraphale let out a startled "Oh" but opened his mouth to the kiss, devouring Crowley's lips and tongue hungrily with gleeful little noises. 

He broke away to laugh just a bit. "Did I make you happy, my dear?"

Crowley fastened a hand on the back of Aziraphale's head, nestled in the curls. "Something like that. Been so scared of going too fast…"

"It's okay now," Aziraphale soothed. "We're on our side. Let's Just go at the pace that feels natural."

"Natural," Crowley murmured in his ear. "Would fucking you right here and now be natural?"

Crap. That was an intense bit of verbal overflow. 

Aziraphale took a breath, and Crowley was just relieved he was thinking about it. 

"Tempting as that is, why don't we build up to it?" Aziraphale asked gently. "There's a lot of fun to be had along the way. And we _are_ in the middle of a conversation."

"Okay. Just… not good at talking," Crowley confessed. "Wanna show you."

"Show me what?"

"How much I--" _love you._ Aziraphale hadn't said that particular four-letter word, and knowing Aziraphale, he had avoided it on purpose. He wasn't ready yet.

"--appreciate what you said just now."

Aziraphale blushed. "It's not quite so dramatic as some of your grand gestures have been, but I hoped it would do. Let's be clear, okay? This is romantic, yes?"

"Yes," Crowley breathed onto his neck, delighting in a slight shiver. 

"And sexual, that's obvious by now. Are we exclusive?"

Crowley scowled, jealous already, just at the question. He pulled back a bit to face Aziraphale, looking for a hopeful expression. He found one. 

"I'd prefer that," Crowley said. 

"Good. Me, too." 

Crowley breathed a cooling breath. "Good. Could you, uh, tell me more about this fun-along-the-way business?"

"Oh, there are plenty of steps gradually progressing toward sex. Cuddling, kissing, making out, partial nudity, experimental nudity, non-sexual kink exploration. Later stages can involve mutual masturbation, phone sex, etc. We might even start with hands, or even fellatio before-"

Crowley laughed. "Angel, slow down, I didn't even think you knew some of those words. Is this like a checklist?"

"No. It's a learning experience. Going one step at a time will help us learn things about each other that could come in handy as things progress."

Crowley was skeptical. What was left to learn after 6000 years? "Like?"

Aziraphale smoothed a hand over his shoulder. "Our reactions, the ways we prefer to communicate in an intimate setting, the ways we prefer to be touched."

Holy hell, that was hot. And a good point. 

"Okay," Crowley said, climbing from his lap just to cuddle in beside him. "I'm sold."

Aziraphale chuckled. "What sold you?"

"I want to make it good for you, angel. And besides…" He hesitated, unsure if he should fess up to something so embarrassing. He watched Aziraphale's finger tracing winding loops on his arm. Yeah, if Aziraphale could bring up things like _mutual masturbation_ and _fellatio_ directly, Crowley had work to do on his courage. 

"If we went too fast I might freeze up again like I did at the picnic," he blurted. 

Aziraphale's winding ministrations paused. "You froze up?"

"Basically. I started to kiss you and you acted like it might be okay and I just…" He mimed an explosion over his heart, complete with a sound effect. 

"And you say you're not good at talking." Aziraphale's voice was touched, sweet, not sarcastic. 

It put Crowley on edge. "That last bit wasn't even a word! Seriously, try and spell it."

"I would need to add a few new letters to the alphabet, I think. But it got your point across, did it not?"

Crowley snorted. "Did you hear the alphabet's getting rearranged?"

"What?" Aziraphale asked, seeming quite alarmed. 

"Yeah, U and I are gonna be together."

"What would be the point in--" Aziraphale broke off and huffed a small laugh. "You're preposterous."

Crowley sniggered. "The correct response is _OK_."

"What, just to keep speaking in letters?"

"A?" Crowley asked. 

"I said, are we supposed to--Crowley, stop it."

Crowley got up. "Y?"

"It's outrageous, that's why."

Crowley crossed to the kitchenette. "O, IC. T?"

"Yes, my dear, I would love--you're still doing it."

Crowley began brewing the tea. "Just giddy, angel. Makes me a little goofy. Deal."

"You're deflecting and trying to distract me, is what you're doing."

Crowley snorted. "FU."

" _Crowley_!"


	14. Be my Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s all that?” Aziraphale asked, motioning to the basket.
> 
> “Not another antichrist. Promise.”

Aziraphale was reading a book with one hand and his other arm around Crowley, who seemed to be gradually falling asleep against his chest. This… was good for his heart. He was relieved his confession had gone over… well. Not like a lead balloon. He was so relieved, he could cry. He was waiting for Crowley’s breath to even out the rest of the way so he could let a few tears out.

Then again, Crowley had been vulnerable with him and admitted to freezing up. Aziraphale just didn’t want him to think he’d done something wrong.

He was getting slowly heavier against his chest, though, so any minute, he would be asleep.

Crowley bolted upright. “Shit.”

Aziraphale put a gentle hand on his back. “What’s the matter?”

There was panic in his eyes -- his yellow irises were spreading. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes, it is. The shop’s last day.” Despite Crowley’s distress, Aziraphale couldn’t help smiling in excitement. 

“I need a gift for you. I’ve got nothing right now.”

Aziraphale held back a laugh. “Relax, dear, you know these human traditions don’t have to mean anything to us.”

“But I want--” Crowley broke off and made a growling noise.

“Use your words,” Aziraphale coached him.

Crowley glared at him. Those lovely golden eyes, sunglass-free, did little to intimidate. “Do you not want to be my Valentine, or something?”

So defensive, yet so sweet. “Of course I’d love to, I just don’t want you to stress.”

“Well, I’m gonna, so deal with it. Fuck, I need to think.”

“How about this?” Aziraphale said. “Let’s spend the day together. Midnight to midnight. We can cuddle, maybe I’ll sleep…”

Crowley was still all but tearing his hair out. “That’s perfect and magnificent and very you and all, but that means I only have until midnight to find you a gift.”

“That would be the gift. Time with you is the best gift.”

Crowley met his gaze with narrowed eyes. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Crowley, really, stop fretting.”

But Crowley was pacing around the sofa, staring at Aziraphale and chewing his lip as if deep in thought.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’m getting an idea, thank someone. Thank James, really. But we might have to spend a little time apart for it to work. I mean, we’d both be here, or at my place if you like, but we’d be in different rooms.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable, if it’s what you really want to do,” Aziraphale said. “Did you just thank James? As in the rubber duck?”

Crowley leaned on the arm of the sofa and lowered his voice. “It’s a little intimate. Is that okay?”

“How is it intimate if we won’t even be in the same room?”

“I suppose the level of intimacy is negotiable, but there will be at least a little. Are you fine with that?”

Aziraphale slowly nodded. He could trust Crowley not to go too far. 

“Great,” Crowley said, heading for the door. “Sorry to establish our relationship and dash, but I’ve got some things to do.” He flashed a grin over his shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“I believe you,” Aziraphale said, still a little stunned. 

“Bye, angel. See you at midnight.”

“I’ll be here.”

The door closed behind him with a jingle, and Aziraphale set down his book to think. If Crowley was going to all this trouble, he might as well, too. He brainstormed. What kind of gift would Crowley like most? Something to do with gardening? To do with the stars he’d helped create? The Bentley? 

If the way Crowley expressed himself was any indication, he was a fan of acts of service. And while Aziraphale was great at receiving such acts, he was not great at administering them.

Maybe it was time to fix that. After all, sushi wasn’t the only Japanese art Aziraphale enjoyed.

***

Crowley showed up a few minutes before midnight, carrying a box of chocolates and a large covered basket, almost like a picnic basket.

They kissed hello.

“What’s all that?” Aziraphale asked, motioning to the basket.

“Not another antichrist. Promise.”

“I would hope not.” 

“It’s your gift, but it’s not set up yet. Would you like it now or in the morning?”

Aziraphale checked his watch. “How about midnight on the dot?”

“What time is it now?”

“We have about thirty seconds.”

Crowley grinned. “Gee, how could we kill that?”

“Come here, you original tempter, you."

Crowley's kiss melted Aziraphale. Something about him smelled different, somewhere between herbal and floral. A new cologne? He hadn't dressed up particularly fancy. 

Crowley broke away first. "Time?"

Aziraphale held up his watch. A minute and a half had gone by. 

Crowley picked up the basket and set it on a side table. "This is a kit I put together so I can draw you a bath. Is that… alright with you?"

"A bath? I don't see why not."

"It'll be special, trust me. And like I said, the level of intimacy here is optional. I can put it together and leave the room, or I can stay in the room but keep my clothes on… orwecouldmiracleitbigenoughIcouldgetintoo," he added so rapidly it sounded like one long word. "But no touching. Or touching. All up to you."

Aziraphale struggled to catch his breath. 

"You can decide while I get it set up," Crowley said, and pecked him on the cheek. 

He went upstairs, leaving Aziraphale to meditate deeply about his options. He had always struggled with pacing. And resisting temptations. 

Crowley was so sweet, and he had waited so long, and a big part of Aziraphale just wanted to hand himself over and let Crowley take whatever he wanted. A part of him would absolutely relish that. 

But doing this right, learning by steps, would make it better. And if they did rush and any kind of miscommunication happened, Crowley would very likely blame himself and freak out.. 

If slowing down a bit could spare him that pain, it was worth it. 

Decision made, he climbed the stairs. 

At the top of the stairs, the bathroom door was shut and he could hear water running. He leaned on the wall to wait. 

It opened, and Crowley double-took to see him already here. "Oh. Come on in, angel."

The room was bright, not mood lit with candles - Aziraphale knew Crowley wasn't a fan, since the bookshop burned - but it smelled amazing, that same floral-herbal scent from earlier. Lavender, he realized. 

Aziraphale stepped in to find a tray affixed to the clawfoot tub. A charcuterie board took up one side of it, arranged with crackers, an assortment of heart-shaped cheeses, gravlax and dill sauce, various fruit slices, and even some sushi rolls. The other side contained a bowl of strawberries dipped in chocolate - white, milk, and dark, from the looks of it. A glass of red wine stood in the corner.

Beneath the tray, the bubbles on the water shone purple. That, he assumed, would be the origin of the lavender scent. 

"What do you think?" Crowley asked. 

"I think I want to get in," Aziraphale said brightly. "So shoo for a minute and come back in when I call for you, all right?"

Crowley's throat bobbed. "All right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the Japanese surprise is not gonna be shibari. You buncha pervs. ::observe my guilty conscience::


	15. Delicacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ngk.

Crowley paced in the hallway and knew Aziraphale was undressing on the other side of the bathroom door. He wanted to press his ear to it and listen for the rustle of fabric, the ripple of the water when he slid down into it. Would listening like that be weird? Definitely, but how weird, scale from one to ten? Seven? Should he ask permission to listen? Would that be even weirder?

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called. “Coast is clear.”

Crowley snorted. He said it like seeing the angel’s naked body would present some kind of  _ danger.  _ Like Crowley should be scared or something. Was Aziraphale putting himself down?

Crowley opened the door ready to lecture. “Don’t say things that make it sound like -”

He took in a vision straight out of one of his fantasies. Aziraphale in the water, naked. He could see him clearly from the chest up. What had Aziraphale said about partial nudity? Experimental nudity? 

The naked angel’s eyebrows rose. “Sound like?” 

Crowley emitted a specific jumble of consonants he should probably have trademarked by now.

Aziraphale smirked and miracled up a cushioned stool by the tub. “Sit, would you?”

Crowley crossed the room and sat, grateful to be off his unsteady feet. His heart felt like a helium balloon. So did his brain. He was one big lame balloon-animal snake. Poke him wrong and he might fly around the room making a dramatic squeaking noise and then die.

Aziraphale put a white-chocolate-covered strawberry in his mouth, bit into it, and groaned gutturally as the juices filled his mouth.

Crowley made the Crowley noise again.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

“Are you putting on a show on purpose?”

Aziraphale put the strawberry down and reached for a cracker and cheese. “Not if you’re going to complain about it.”

“I didn’t mean -- fuck.”

“I’m teasing,” Aziraphale said. “I want to eat all of this, and some foods are more erotic than others.”

Crowley held back the Crowley noise this time. “I should have just brought you strawberries and bananas. Maybe an ice cream cone.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes but shrugged. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

With the ice broken a bit, Crowley let himself actually look. It should have been illegal for Aziraphale to wear shoulder pads when his shoulders were such a captivating shape to begin with. His arms shouldn't have been hidden away like that, either. His flushed, creamy skin had a freckle here and there. Crowley wanted to map them out like a star chart. To learn all of his intricacies. 

Aziraphale leaned back a bit as he chewed a piece of sushi. Crowley watched his throat bob and his eyes continued drifting down. Lavender bubbles and some fluffy blond chest hair vaguely shielded nipples taught and flushed as small raspberries. Dear everything holy and unholy and everywhere in between. Fuck. 

Aziraphale picked up a strawberry, but he lifted it to Crowley's mouth instead. "Try."

Crowley shook his head. "Already did. These are for you."

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. "I have trouble imagining you trying one while setting things up just now. Crowley, did you  _ make _ them?"

The Crowley noise was quickly becoming the  _ only  _ Crowley noise.

"And the cheeses. Did you cut them into heart shapes?"

"Do they look homemade?" Crowley asked, but he could tell he sounded too worried about the answer. 

"Oh, they're wonderful." Aziraphale reached for Crowley's hand, and then naked Aziraphale was touching him, lifting his hand to his mouth to kiss it. "I  _ am _ tempted to invite you in, you know."

Crowley was flushing so hard, he wondered if steam might actually come out his ears. 

"But that might be a bit too tempting, so…" He lifted the strawberry again. "Let me feed you."

Crowley let his mouth fall open and leaned forward slightly. The strawberry's chocolate coating touched his tongue, and he took the smallest bite he could manage, to leave more for Aziraphale. 

"Satisfied?" Crowley asked. 

"Oh, not in the least," Aziraphale smirked. "But I'm… happy."

More helium. More flushing. More struggling not to make the awkward grunt noise. At this rate he was going to morph into a snake and hide under the sink. 

He shook it off and picked up a piece of sushi with an only-slightly-shaky hand. "Your turn."

Aziraphale opened his mouth and Crowley placed the roll on his tongue. Those lips brushed Crowley's fingers. He could feel the blood leaving his limbs and head, travelling to fill his dick. 

Shit, Aziraphale might make him leave if he saw. He thought fast. "Can I, uh, rub your shoulders?"

"You're going to pamper me out of my mind," Azirapahle laughed. "But I suppose, perhaps once I finish eating."

"I'm gonna go ahead and move over here," Crowley said, moving the stool closer to the head end of the tub. Out of Aziraphale's sight.

"Oh?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley could hear the raised eyebrow. Bastard had probably already noticed. Shit. 

From this angle, he could only see part of Aziraphale's face, his bright pink ear, his neck, shoulders, and part of his back. Still plenty to meditate upon. 

"I wanted to ask," Aziraphale said between bites. "Have you ever been in an exclusive relationship before?"

"Not knowingly. A few partners got a bit attached, over the years. No one to worry about now. You?"

"Similar situations have arisen on my end," Aziraphale said. 

Crowley reached out a tentative finger to trace a line between freckles on Aziraphale's right shoulder. "Anyone I should worry about?"

"No. To be honest, I haven't had any dalliances since the early 60's. How long has it been for you?"

Cringe. He dropped his hand from Aziraphale's back. He couldn't lie… "A year, maybe? I mighta sorta thotted around a bit trying to get relief from the looming apocalypse stress, but it didn't help, so I quit."

"And once it was over? Why did you abstain?"

Crowley took a breath. "We got closer. I still wasn't sure I stood a chance, but hanging out with you was more fun than picking up strangers in bars and clubs, you know?"

"You're sweet."

Crowley groaned. "Stop it. I'm not well-adjusted enough for that shit."

"You're hard."

"A-Aziraphale!"

"That's why you're hiding behind me."

"Shut up and eat," Crowley grumbled. 

"As you wish," Aziraphale conceded.

Crowley listened to Aziraphale moan and gush over the food and didn't dare move back into view. But he did drop his forehead onto the angel's shoulder after a while. 

"This has been the most decadent I have ever felt," Aziraphale murmured when the food was gone. 

Crowley picked his head up. "It's not over yet. I promised you a massage, didn't I?"

Aziraphale settled back against the tub. "By all means."

Crowley explored Aziraphale's shoulder muscles with his thumbs, searching for knots of tension to focus on, but never staying in one spot for too long. Aziraphale's encouraging utterances turned out to be somewhat different from his food noises. Groans were lower and longer. Mmmms were even more emphatic. A couple times, he inhaled sharply, and Crowley drew back, thinking he'd hurt him, but Aziraphale beckoned him back. 

_ Sharp inhaling noise = good.  _

But what drove Crowley craziest was how verbally expressive Aziraphale could be. "Oh, yes." "There please." "That's exquisite, my dear."

And then eventually: "You're incredible. I am so glad I put together something for you, too."

Crowley paused. "You don't have to do anything for me. I was the one who insisted on all this, I didn't mean --"

"It's a bit intimate too, I suppose."

Crowley, of course, _ ngk _ ed.


	16. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, I know, and I will know. But if you've been nice , I might play along…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks, I’m gonna break my perfect chapter-by-chapter POV alternation. This chapter needed Crowley’s perspective.
> 
> I also made a weird paragraph organization move to avoid some repetitive transitions....

Crowley stepped out of the bathroom again so Aziraphale could get out of the bath and get dressed. Part of him was exhausted, and another was practically clanging all over the place like an Energizer bunny. The overall effect resulted in leaning against the wall, except for short bursts of pacing. 

Aziraphale came out in cotton pajamas and a fleece bathrobe. Crowley had never seen him in such a relaxed outfit before. Crowley had never seen him this relaxed before, in several ways.

He followed him downstairs to the back room. In the middle of the coffee table was a bouquet in a vase. But these flowers were… 

“Origami?” Crowley asked, touching a folded petal of a spiraling flower. 

“Yes. They open.”

“There’s something in them?” Crowley nudged a flower, trying to feel its weight. 

“Yes. Go ahead, sit down and start opening.”

“But it’ll undo all your… craftiness.” That still wasn't the right word, was it?

“I can put them back together, if you like. Go on.” He picked a flower from the bouquet by its rolled-paper stem and showed Crowley how to open it by the petals.

Crowley took a seat on the sofa, and Aziraphale sat next to him with their hips touching. 

Inside was a folded piece of paper. He opened it to find Aziraphale’s best calligraphy.

_Good for one dark zone date._

“Dark zone? Like a stargazing area?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley struggled to keep his face from taking on a mushy expression. 

Aziraphale had done some thoughtful things for him over the years, mostly things that had come up conveniently. And he had invited him on dinner/food dates before. But never anything like this. 

“I love it,” Crowley murmured reverently. “Thank you, Aziraphale.”

“You do realize that’s a tenth of the gift?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley’s breath caught. He’d assumed the rest would be details about the date, that this was the big part.

He narrowed his eyes at Aziraphale and raised the paper. “Not sure you can beat this.”

"Oh, I think I can."

The next flower’s slip of paper said, _Good for one time I must say a curse word of your choosing._

Crowley laughed. “You’re gonna let me talk you into swearing?”

“No persuasion necessary,” Aziraphale said. “They're coupons. You can use them whenever you like, okay?"

“Can I use it now? No, wait. I can pick better timing than this for this one.”

Crowley pulled another flower from the vase and began unraveling it. The rest of the coupons included:

_One day spent in your flat without coddling the plants_ \- "Are you sure you even can?" "I adore them, my dear, but I do have self-control."

_One massage_ \- Fuck, this meant Aziraphale had the idea first. He wondered how intense of a massage he could ask for. Clothes or no? If he waited on this one...

_One ride in the Bentley with no complaints about speeding -_ "Once again, I'm impressed you think you can do this." "All this time, you've never actually been in an accident. I can learn to calm down a bit and trust you." Crowley's heart flew. More in the haphazard balloon animal way than anything majestic. 

_One snog_ \- The fact alone that this was on the table almost made Crowley shudder. 

_One time I must put my book down and pay attention -_ "You do realize I'm gonna miraculously duplicate these." "Oh, I know, and I _will_ know. But if you've been _nice_ , I might play along…"

Hot damn. Three to go. 

_One instance of assistance with a shenanigan -_ "I do not have shenanigans!" "Darling, almost everything you do is a shenanigan." The word _darling_ caused Crowley to shut up.

_One time I must say something raunchy, but of my choosing -_ "How does that work?" "You use the coupon, and I must think of something sexual to say." “What if I use it during a fight? You’re going to be furious with me, and I’m going to make you say something dirty and make it even worse.” “Or break the tension by making us both laugh.”

Last one.

_One day during which I wear an outfit you have selected -_ "I could be a dick with this one, too. I could save it for Halloween and put you in any costume I like." "I trust your discretion, my dear."

Crowley leaned in close to his angel, hopefully distracting him from his other hand, which was picking up one of the papers. “You are trusting me quite a lot with these. Adjusting quickly, are you?"

Aziraphale frowned. "Crowley, I never _didn't_ trust you. That wasn't the issue."

Crowley froze, wondering what the issue was, but unable to ask. 

"Do you really not know why I held back for so long? Why I asked you to slow down?"

Crowley shook his head. "But you don't have to -"

"I was afraid of exactly what happened. That Hell would try to kill you. I didn't want to see you suffer, and I didn't want to live without you."

Crowley couldn't stop himself. "But the danger passed in August, and…"

"I'm sorry. It took me a while to shake the fear. You're so important to me, Crowley."

Emotion swelled up in Crowley and he surged forward to kiss Aziraphale. He slid their lips together with a head tilt, opening his mouth. He found Aziraphale's hand so he could slip him the coupon.

Aziraphale broke the kiss to read it and smiled coyly. "Gladly, my dear." He shedded the fleece bathrobe.

The snog escalated quickly.

Aziraphale’s hands were everywhere - running through Crowley’s hair, around his waist, up his back, down his arms. Crowley couldn’t work up the courage to explore quite so boldly, keeping a firm grip on Aziraphale’s thighs. 

He was painfully hard, but thankfully, Aziraphale either didn’t notice or didn’t mind.

“You know,” Aziraphale said between kisses. “It’s more important to me that we take this _gradually_ than _slowly,_ per se.” He murmured the next words into Crowley’s neck. “I just don’t want to skip anything. Six thousand years, and I don’t want to miss a moment with you. I don’t mind if those moments are… concentrated. If that’s something you can handle.”

Every inch of Crowley’s skin electrified. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Aziraphale said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “You’re going too slow for me, Crowley.”

The electrification intensified. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since we decided this was a thing.”

“This has always been a thing,” Aziraphale said, a finger sliding down the buttons of Crowley’s waistcoat. “And I need more of you.”

Crowley’s skin was aflame, and the room was starting to spin a bit.

Aziraphale moved back in. With a rush of courage, Crowley let his hands wander up to Aziraphale’s hips and then his waist. He pushed gently, chasing the kiss as Aziraphale leaned back. Pinned against the cushions, Aziraphale looked pleased. His face was red, eyes sharp, mouth fighting a smile. 

Crowley let his eyes trace up and down the angel beneath him. “You… can have all of me.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked. “Even your wings?”

Instead of answering verbally, Crowley brought them out. 

Aziraphale reached up to trace a hand through his feathers. “Even your eyes?”

Crowley plucked his sunglasses from his collar and threw them to the floor. 

“Even this?” Aziraphale’s hips bucked up into Crowley’s, and his brain went white. Warmth and pressure on his erection, a bit of vibration from the fabrics rubbing together, and the fact that Aziraphale was also remarkably hard…

He froze. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Mnuh?”

Aziraphale nudged him backwards as he sat up. “Okay. It’s okay. I might have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Crowley growled. “Gimme a moment, I can do this. I need -”

Aziraphale made a shushing sound. “Take your time. Before we progress any further, there’s a little more communicating we should do.”

“Words?” Crowley said, dazed. “Don’t think I can words.”

“You’ll manage,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Let’s get comfortable. How would you feel about a morning nap?”

“If you let me into your bed right now, I’m not responsible for my actions.”

“Yes, you are, and you’ll be fine. Come upstairs.”

Crowley put his wings away and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I was trying to avoid having to say "Crowley opened the next flower" over and over and over and over and over. And over and over. 
> 
> Let me know if it works?


	17. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication. Words. And then not words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this one early because tomorrow morning is going to be a time crunch. ❤

Aziraphale had let Crowley into his bedroom before, on occasion, for private conversations or the endeavor of fetching a book. But Crowley still gaped around the room like it was new to him.

So fucking cute. 

"Would you like some pajamas? I can't imagine those jeans are terribly comfortable."

Crowley's breath hitched but he nodded. Aziraphale opened a drawer to withdraw a folded set of pajamas, a slightly darker shade of the cream ones he wore. "Not your regular aesthetic, and I'm sure they'll be big on you, but they should be comfortable."

"I'll, uh, change in the bathroom. If I try to change in here, I'm not sure I'll get through the whole process." A nervous grin, and he fled. 

Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and took a breath. 

Was he pushing? He was the one who had suggested not rushing, but what he really wanted was just what he said - a step-by-step progression, a journey to the destination. 

He had overestimated his own patience. And Heaven knew - or hopefully didn't - that he didn't want to take advantage of Crowley's patience anymore. 

He didn't want to freak him out, though, either. 

The door opened, and Aziraphale looked up. Crowley looked exquisite in oversized, cream-colored clothes. His face was flushed.

Aziraphale tucked himself in and beckoned for Crowley to do the same. They settled in, facing each other, and Aziraphale offered his hand. Crowley took it. 

"What happened just now, downstairs, exactly?" Aziraphale asked. "When you froze up? I guess I'm asking… What did it feel like, precisely?"

Crowley hesitated. "If I'm being honest…"

Shit. He was suffering, struggling, Aziraphale was the one going too fast now -

"...it feels good. Overwhelming, but in a good way. A way I'm not used to, so it takes me a minute to process. That's all. I don't need to slow down, I swear. Just… give me a little, if it happens again, and I can keep going."

Aziraphale sighed in relief and squeezed Crowley's hand. 

"Okay. I trust you. I've been thinking. One of the main reasons humans take sex slowly is to build trust. But we already have 6000 years of trust built up. It's not an issue for me. Is it for you?"

Crowley shook his head. 

"Then, if you can handle it, here in a bit, I would like to get you off."

Crowley was obviously at war with his facial expression, but his expanding irises betrayed his emotion. "Uhm…"

"I feel like making you wait would be teasing you, in a cruel way. But if you disagree, I don't want to overwhelm you, either."

Crowley cleared his throat? "Cruel? I do disagree… but I am  _ not _ arguing."

Aziraphale smiled. "Well then. Is there anything you particularly dislike in bed? Things that turn you off or ruin the mood?"

"Uh." Crowley coughed again. "Not that I can think of."

"I kind of doubt you have no such boundaries, but we'll circle back. What about things you do like? Kinks?"

Crowley smiled. "All of them."

"Be serious, dear."

Crowley sighed. "Sometimes I like roleplay, done well. I like dominating and being dominated. I'm a switch through and through. But with you, at first, I don't want to mess with any of that."

"Why not?"

Crowley was quiet for a long moment, eyes unfocused. "I just don't need it, okay? I want to be you and me."

_ Awwwwwwww…! _

Aziraphale could practically have fucking squealed, but he held it in. "Okay. What else should I know?"

Crowley swallowed. "I can't think of anything. Hold up, why are we making this all about me? Do you not want to…?"

"I'm not going to ask or pressure you."

"But you wouldn't have a problem with it? With me getting you off?"

"I wouldn't, no."

"Then what should I know? Kinks, turnoffs?"

Aziraphale found himself flustered. "I tend to dislike abruptness, feeling like a step has been skipped over. I can happily switch too, in BDSM terms, so that works out nicely for the future. But I suppose you should know I can be a little insecure about my body, at times."

Crowley frowned. "Why?"

"I've had some… experiences… with being judged for my physique."

"That's bullshit. I can fix that. I  _ will _ fucking fix that."

Aziraphale smiled. "I'm not sure that's how it works, but you've already helped quite a bit. I'm so proud that I can make you like this." His hand traced down to Crowley's hip, resting close to his erection. "But I do have one more question. Have you ever had any sort of affair with an immortal before?" 

Crowley cringed. "Yeah, there have been other demons, ones who blend into humanity a bit better, like myself. Just sex. Curiosity, you know?"

"Yes, I do know what it's like to be curious about sex with a demon. A very specific one."

"Ngk."

Aziraphale loved earning that noise. He raised his eyebrows. "But if you've had such experiences, you know how to have sex with miracles involved, I take it? I've always wondered what that would be like."

"Oh, uh, I can't remember if we ever used..." Crowley mumbled. "I mean, I probably could if I dug, but I don't want to."

"We'll play that by ear, then. I have your permission?"

"Of course." Crowley's voice broke and he cleared his throat. "Do I have yours?"

"Yes, but if you want to go first, I might have to argue. I'm the one who's been teasing."

But Crowley was moving over top of him, lowering his mouth to his ear. "I love your teasing."

Aziraphale tucked some hair behind his ear. It had grown a bit longer these past few months. "Well, it tends to worry me when you seem to lose functionality over it."

Crowley kissed him. "I'm functioning now."

Aziraphale kissed him back. "Just don't force yourself." 

"I'm not. Trust me. I have  _ always _ wanted this." 

The butterflies in Aziraphale's stomach grew into big, beautiful Luna moths. 

"Okay," he breathed. "Ground rules. No skipping steps. That means no mouths, no penetration."

Crowley smiled as if he had a secret, a little Mona Lisa of a thing. "Sure."

"And it's not a competition. We don't have to agree right now on who should come first, but it's not a race."

Crowley's smirk grew. "Sure." 

This one sounded a little more sarcastic. 

Aziraphale really should have called him on it, but seeing him get his confidence back was such a relief, he didn't want to disturb it. 

So he let Crowley swoop down to kiss him again, matching his pace. 

Crowley sat back and braced on his knees. He ran His hands up Aziraphale's thighs, hips, down his sides, pushing, massaging, seeming to relish in the give of him, his… softness. The reverent expression on his face only made Aziraphale melt more, and he struggled to keep teasing at Crowley's own thighs with his fingertips. 

After feeling out his arms, Crowley came forward again to kiss him, and kept sinking down until their bodies were flush. His hardness pressed into Aziraphale's belly. Crowley breathed hotly, intentionally, into his ear, and he couldn't stifle a gasp.

When Crowley's mouth latched onto Aziraphale's neck and he felt the sharp but gentle pressure of teeth, he did melt. He groaned and let his hands fall to the bed. 

Crowley leaned back, looking pleased with himself, to mess with the top button of Aziraphale's pajama shirt. "This okay?"

"Yes," Aziraphale breathed, impressed that Crowley wasn't skipping steps, wasn't going straight for his trousers. "May I miracle yours away?"

Crowley nodded. In the morning light from the window, Crowley's eyes were entirely golden, no white visible at all. 

Aziraphale focused and Crowley's pajama shirt vanished. He'd seen the dark red chest hair peeking from the collars of certain outfits, but he'd never known how it framed Crowley's nipples, how it tapered into a delicious-looking happy trail. 

Crowley was almost done with his pajama buttons, but Aziraphale's patience slipped. He took Crowley wrists and guided them to the pillow on either side of his head. "Come back here."

"I can do that," Crowley smirked, leaning to kiss him. 

He was still distant enough that Aziraphale could work his hands between them, splay fingertips over his chest. "You're so beautiful."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Pot, kettle."

"You're sweet," Aziraphale said. 

"Stop that. I'll show you sweet." He moved down Aziraphale body and nipped at his belly, of all things. It should have been embarrassing, but it made him squirm.

Crowley made a thoughtful noise and ran skittering fingertips over the same spot. Aziraphale failed to suppress a squeak, and a Neruda line flashed through his mind -  _ My mouth went across, a spider trying to hide. _

"Are you ticklish?" Crowley asked. 

"Not exactly, but I love how that feels."

Crowley sat back and moved his hands from Aziraphale's belly to his own thighs. "I knew," he whispered. 

Aziraphale sat up, concerned. "You knew what?"

"Your reactions. Quite A few of them are exactly what I thought they'd be. What would make you gasp or squirm… I knew."

Aziraphale smiled, moved that Crowley had put so much thought into it. "I suppose you picked up on some of my nuances, after knowing me six thousand years."

"I guess."

"I suppose I'll have to find other ways to surprise you." Aziraphale thumbed at both of Crowley's nipples.

He gasped. "Shit. Aziraphale…"

"Yes?"

Crowley's head drooped. He seemed to be struggling to breathe.

Aziraphale paused. "Do we need to slow down?"

"Never," Crowley growled.

"Well, in that case…"

Aziraphale tilted Crowley's head up to kiss him, and once his guard was down, flipped him easily onto his back.

He broke the kiss with a gasp. "Fuck, angel, I lo - I'm loving this."

"Oh? It gets better, you know."

Aziraphale let his hand very slowly wander down Crowley's happy trail, past his waistband. He cupped him lightly.

Crowley closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them. Squirmed emphatically. 

_ "Yessss." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks, I just wanted to thank you all for these beautiful amounts of ~ATTENTION~ this is getting and bring up how much I'm now dreading the end of February. This is probably the most rewarding writing experience I've ever had (and I'm a published author, so that's saying… a lot, not all of it fortunate lol). So. How do I keep this momentum going? Options include:
> 
> 1\. I could keep this specific story going for a while. This wouldn't change the plot I've already planned. I could gradually move them into the South Downs, bring in cameos from other characters, get into some real kink exploration, etc. If I resort to filler, it will be fun filler, promise. And I might have to slow down the pace, but the daily thing has been more invigorating than exhausting so far. As for prompts, I could do this three ways.  
> a. Unprompted  
> b. Vaguely seasonal prompts  
> c. Prompts you guys suggest (This is my favorite option, if you'd be up to it.)
> 
> 2\. If option 1 isn't in the spirit of the thing, I think I'd like to start a very similar fic that updates weekly based on the weekly prompts that the "Ineffable Husbands-Fanfictions Reader and Writer-AO3" Facebook page is about to start giving out. 
> 
> 3\. I could pull some timey wimey wibbly wobbliness and do an Ineffable Kinktober fic. October and March both have 31 days, after all. 
> 
> What do you think I should do?


	18. Playful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Always… and never," Crowley babbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMHO, playful sexytimes are the best sexytimes. If you find someone who makes you laugh in bed without ruining the mood, hang onto that sexy goofball.

Crowley resisted the temptation to grind down into Aziraphale’s palm. The pressure became even lighter as Aziraphale traced a finger along Crowley's length. 

Crowley heard himself make an  _ mmmm _ noise and realized he'd lost control of his expression. He schooled his features back into something that hopefully resembled composure. 

Aziraphale’s fingertip vanished and he leaned his forehead to Crowley’s. “You can let go, you know. Be as expressive as you want. I’m not going to judge you. You were the one who said you want us to be ourselves.”

Crowley smirked and looped his arms around and against Aziraphale’s, on either side of him. “And yet here you are, dominating me.”

“Oh, this is just being playful. You’ll know it when I’m dominating you."

Crowley might have whimpered. A little. More at the word  _ when  _ than anything, the impression that this was a precedent and not an experiment.

Aziraphale's face fell. "Wait, were you serious?"

"No, angel, I'm teasing." He pulled his smirk back out. “But fair warning, I am a brat.”

Aziraphale thumbed at Crowley’s nipple again, smoothing circles around it, and all but rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. I wouldn’t have you any other way. Well, in that situation. Here and now, I’d like you just as you are. Relax, my dear.”

Crowley was only breathing as much air as he needed to in order to talk. “Easy for you to say. You haven’t been daydreaming about this for six thousand years.”

Oh, fuck. Was that revealing too much?

Aziraphale smirked, his hand now meandering back and forth down Crowley’s belly. “You don’t know that.”

Crowley grinned in relief. “Oh, come on, I always went way faster than you.”

“What if I told you I started lusting for you on the wall of Eden?” Aziraphale asked. “That I’ve been dreaming of this moment as long as you have?”

“ _ Are _ you saying that?”

“Believe it,” Aziraphale whispered. His hand slid over Crowley’s erection again, and this time Crowley let go and let his expression melt. After all, if Aziraphale had six thousand years of lust built up too, he had to give him anything he wanted. 

Like he wouldn't have, anyway.

It was liberating. It was easier to process what was happening, when he wasn’t worrying about looking cool. Who had he been kidding, anyway?

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“Nguh,” Crowley said. His hips developed a mind of their own and bucked up into the touch.

He only had a split second to panic before Aziraphale was pressing down to match the pressure, massaging, exploring through the cotton of his trousers and pants. Crowley, to his amazement, found himself getting harder, tension now coiling in his lower belly. 

If he got anymore wound up, he’d melt and completely lose control. “Th-that’s enough. You need to be the one to… come first….”

Aziraphale’s hand drew back, but he said, “I need no such thing. I just finally got you to let go, and I intend to keep going until you’re an incomprehensible mess.”

“I already am,” Crowley laughed. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “Nonsense. I have work to do. Let me.”

Crowley should never have let Aziraphale take over any temptations. He’d developed a completely unfair mastery of the art. The desire to see Aziraphale come under his hands warred with the desire to come under Aziraphale’s hands.

The deciding factor was what Aziraphale wanted. 

“As long as I get to do the same to you.”

“Absolutely.” 

And Aziraphale’s fingers dipped under his waistband.

Crowley moaned and bucked again as Aziraphale found his way into Crowley’s boxers and inched closer to his cock. 

Aziraphale paused to toy with his pubic hair. “May I miracle the rest of your clothes away? May I see you?”

"Yes," Crowley whispered, still squirming. 

Next moment, he was naked, and Aziraphale was pulling the covers down from his thighs and completely off. He'd been serious about wanting to see him. All of him, down to his feet.

He watched Aziraphale's eyes running hungrily over his lower half. His breath left him.

"Are you cold?" Aziraphale asked. 

"If I say yes, will you touch me more?"

Aziraphale laughed lightly, laid one hand against his hip, and another on the lower half of his erection, just barely stroking upward. 

"Your hips. They're the most scrumptious thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"How can you tell without tasting?"

"Point taken." Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley's knee, then knelt and put his mouth on his hipbone. Teeth, tongue, suction.

Crowley keened. 

"I was right. If your hips taste this good, I do wonder…"

And his hand was on Crowley's cock again. He stroked up, down, cupped his balls with teasing fingers. 

Crowley's vision whited again, but it only lasted an instant. His eyes burst open to meet Aziraphale's gaze. 

"Still okay?"

"I'm - fucking - glorious. But I want - you closer. Wanna touch you."

Aziraphale lowered himself down to lie alongside Crowley, and Crowley pulled his face in for a kiss. Their lips slid together, and Aziraphale didn't stop sliding his hand along his cock, and Crowley felt lit up like a star.

After millennia of painful curiosity about what Aziraphale would be like in bed, answers were falling into place. Crowley could only open his eyes for brief intervals, because being the object of Aziraphale's focus like this was  _ blinding.  _ Every time they made eye contact, Crowley could barely stand it. 

Aziraphale thoroughly licked his hand and when it fell back onto Crowley, it's pressure began to gradually increase. 

The pace, however, remained slow. 

"Thought you said you weren't a tease," he whined. 

"I'm not. I know you have utterly beguiling amounts of patience, my dear, so let me enjoy watching you fall apart."

Crowley lost his words. He let out all manner of embarrassing groans and mewls, cursed, and tried to say Aziraphale's name now and then, but could only get out fragments. 

One of his arms had somehow become tucked under Aziraphale's side, and that hand gripped at the bare skin of his back - his pajama top had vanished at some point. His other hand moved from Aziraphale's cheek to his jaw, down his neck to his shoulder, and back again.

Aziraphale's hand disappeared, and Crowley opened his eyes to complain, but Aziraphale was licking it again, looking into Crowley's face. 

Blinding. 

Finally, Aziraphale's hand was moving faster. Every once in a while he would pause, loop His thumb and forefinger around Crowley's base, and use his three remaining fingers to massage Crowley's tightening balls, stroke along his perineum. 

His other hand was in Crowley's hair, toying with it affectionately in a way that made Crowley feel safer than ever even as he lost control. 

Because by now he was  _ writhing,  _ thinking in physical and emotional sensations instead of words as he crept toward the edge. 

"Are you ready?" Aziraphale asked.

"Always… and never," Crowley babbled. 

"I'll take that as a yes." 

Crowley relished the sound of a smile in Aziraphale's voice, but his strokes intensified. Within instant, the wound coil in Crowley's belly was unravelling, and he was climbing, climbing higher than he ever could with his wings, higher than he had ever been while building the stars. 

Something deep in his soul erupted, and again, his vision went white. 

His first coherent thought, moments later, was,  _ Oh, I'm back in my body now. _

Said body was still untensing, quivering with aftershocks. The mess was already gone. He wasn't sure where exactly he'd been for a few seconds, but he was happy to be here now, and he pulled Aziraphale's face back down for a kiss. 

He never thought he'd be so happy to feel so weak. 

Aziraphale pulled him onto his side and held their bodies flush, tracing patterns on Crowley's arm and back while he recovered. 

"I've administered divine ecstasy in the past," Aziraphale murmured after a while. "That just now… looked more akin to such ecstasy than an orgasm."

"Been a long time coming," Crowley muttered. 

"It  _ was _ a long time you were coming," Aziraphale laughed. 

Crowley snorted. "Yeah, well." He wasn't ready to admit to having an entire spiritual experience. "You ready for your turn?"

"Darling, you're still shaking. Let yourself recover."

"I'm fine, I need you. I need to see you come for me."

Shit, he was babbling.

"Shhh." Aziraphale's fingers running through his hair felt exquisite. He felt boneless, floaty. 

"Go to sleep," Aziraphale whispered, "and dream about the stars."

“Azira...“ No, no, Aziraphale couldn't pull that shit on  _ him _ , not  _ now _ ...

"I'm not going anywhere."

Crowley found himself drifting through star systems and nebulae he'd helped to build, all the while knowing Aziraphale was holding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's reasoning will be explained in the next chapter. 
> 
> I have decided to keep the story going into March, but I haven't decided frequency or the prompt situation yet. 
> 
> ❤


	19. Candy Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “LET’S GET A WIGGLE ON ;)”

Aziraphale was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, and yet, it was almost easy to ignore. 

Crowley was so unguarded and peaceful in sleep. He’d checked in on Crowley while he slept through the later decades of the 19th century and the first few of the 20th, always just watching, never touching like this, never stroking his hair. Those had been sad times. They had been worth it, to reach now.

Celestial and occult beings didn’t technically need sleep, much like humans didn’t  _ need  _ to meditate… but it could also do them a lot of good. He’d felt Crowley black out for a second, at the height of his orgasm. In six thousand years of experience, he’d become quite good in bed, but that was something he’d never seen.

He felt pride and guilt in equal measure. He needed to make sure Crowley was okay. 

Watching him sleep, knowing he needed it, did not help with the desire much. Their bodies were still flush, although Aziraphale had angled his hardness so it wouldn’t touch the sleeping demon.

He was tempted to slip away and take care of his needs on his own, but he got the sense that might break Crowley’s heart, and goodness knew he’d done enough of that over the years.

He was tempted to talk to him while he slept, to confess everything. To sing, make him up some kind of lullaby, sing him the songs that made him think of their time together. To read something aloud to him, maybe. But Crowley might hear, might wake up and wonder, and things might get awkward and embarrassing.

Not that they hadn’t recovered from plenty of awkward and embarrassing things over the years. 

He hadn’t used a miracle to dictate how long Crowley would sleep. A part of him had hoped he’d wake up in time for them to carry on, but he also couldn’t bring himself to disturb such a deep sleep for that reason alone.

The sun came up, and before long, it was time to open the bookshop. Aziraphale had made a commitment to the entire populace of London, and it was his very last promise of the sort, and he couldn’t let Crowley wake up alone, after everything that had happened.

“Crowley?” he whispered. “Wake up, dear.”

A shift, a grumble.

“It’s time to open the bookshop.”

“‘S your bloody job, not mine.”

“Is it okay if I go and let you sleep some more?”

Crowley’s eyes opened. And then opened wider. Aziraphale could see everything rush back to him. 

“Shit,” Crowley swore, backing away from Aziraphale. “I fell asleep? And before I could even… F _ uck! Fuck, fuck - _ ”

“I made you fall asleep,” Aziraphale said gently, getting up from the bed. “You needed it, you blacked out for a second.”

“I blacked out? That’s what that was? Shit, that’s pathetic.”

“No, it isn’t. It was perfect, okay? Beautiful. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Crowley’s face was red. “But you - you’re - I need to take care of you!”

“We don’t have time right now.” Aziraphale held up a hand against Crowley’s protests. “None of this is your fault, hear me? I’m the one who dragged things out. I’m the one who chose to make you sleep and then to let you sleep. And I don’t regret any of that, okay? I’m fine. I’m  _ happy _ . Now, do you want to go back to sleep or do you want to come downstairs with me?”

Crowley eyed him skeptically. “I’ll come downstairs.”

At the same moment, they both realized Crowley was completely exposed and half-hard. 

Crowley covered himself with blankets. “Just give me a minute.”

Aziraphale smiled, reached for him, pulled him into a kiss. “Just come down when you’re ready.”

*

The store was, to Aziraphale’s regret, busier than usual that day. 

Every time it was empty, Crowley was on him, kissing him, coaxing him toward the back room, but just as he was about to give in, another customer would walk through the door. 

Fortunately, very few made purchases. Most of them just wanted one more look inside a 220-year landmark before it closed. 

It became busiest around two o’clock. At least a dozen people were bustling around, climbing up and down the spiraling stairs, herding children, chatting over novels.

Crowley came up and leaned on the register beside him. He looked down at a crystal dish of candy hearts and combed through them.

“Isn’t it sketchy these days to serve unwrapped candy?”

“They’re for show,” Aziraphale said. “But that doesn’t mean you should go touching all of them.”

“My hands are clean.” Crowley flashed a smile. “Unfortunately.”

Aziraphale gave him a stern look.

“Can’t say the same for yours,” Crowley continued, smirking.

“Hush, you. There are children about.”

“Hmmm. Ha!” He withdrew a green heart from the bowl. “Look what I found.” 

In red lettering, it said “ANGEL.”

Crowley held it close to Aziraphale’s mouth. “Now you have to eat it. It’s got your name on it.”

“Angel is not my name.”

“Pet name, same thing.”

“Are you admitting to using a pet name for me for six thousand years?”

“Just eat your candy,” Crowley said, holding it so close that Aziraphale’s vision doubled when he tried to look at it.

Aziraphale gently pushed the candy heart away, scoffed, and picked one from the bowl himself. He handed it to Crowley. It was miracled to say “FOUL FIEND.”

“Oh, we can miracle them now, can we?” Crowley smirked. 

He slipped one to Aziraphale that said, “TEMPTER.”

Aziraphale handed one back that said, "SWEETHEART."

Crowley made that wondrous choking sound. It had scared Aziraphale the first couple of times he heard it, but now he knew it indicated good things. 

Crowley recovered quickly and handed him a blue heart. “LET’S GET A WIGGLE ON ;)”

"Soon, my dear." He passed over "WAHOO.” Crowley had spent a lot of time trying to get “Can I get a ‘wahoo’?” to catch on as his catchphrase in the 70s.

Crowley scoffed and handed him a purple heart candy. “TICKETY BOO.”

“That should be hyphenated,” Aziraphale corrected. “Stop making fun of me.”

“No chance.” The next one said, “LICK BUTT.”

Aziraphale considered sharing with Crowley that he’d said that on purpose to break the tension, but decided against it. Instead, he went in for the kill, passing over, "ROSE FARTS."

Crowley actually did seem to choke for a second. "I-I should probably tell you the truth about that at some point."

Aziraphale shrugged. "It can't be worse than floral flatulence."

A customer interrupted them then, asking to purchase a common, decoy copy of a Harry Potter book. (The first editions and signed ones were behind glass.)

Crowley snuck off while Aziraphale helped customers, and Aziraphale spotted him on his cell phone in the back room. 

Interesting.

When the day was finally over, and the five o’clock bell rang, Aziraphale reached for the OPEN/CLOSED sign. Instead of flipping it over, he took it down.

Crowley applauded. “ _ You _ get to live in a  _ closed  _ bookshop, your own personal  _ library _ . You could even organize it how you want it now, instead of constantly reshuffling to throw customers off.”

Relief flooded him. He didn’t have to part with his books anymore. He would miss the socialization, but plenty of people didn’t run stores and still managed to socialize. 

Besides, there was really only one person he wanted to be close to.

“Thank you,” he said to Crowley, setting the sign on a shelf. 

“Don’t thank me yet. I got us some reservations at the Ritz.”

He felt his energy returning. “Oh, how perfect!”

“For dinner, and… if you want, I booked a hotel room.”

Aziraphale’s heart stuttered. “On such short notice?”

“There may have been demonic miracles involved. We don’t have to, I just thought maybe I could make this morning up to you.”

“You have nothing to make up to me, you mischievous hellion. But of course we can stay the night.”


	20. Reservation gone wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I intend to cuddle you close, so we don’t need a lot of space. That is, if we sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is just plain BAIT for a “There was only one bed” scenario.
> 
> So I did this.
> 
> Why, yes, I do think I’m funny. ;)

The Bentley, of course, played Old-Fashioned Lover Boy on the drive to the Ritz. And Crowley’s instinct, of course, was to get embarrassed and turn it off. 

But he resisted, oddly happy that such a reaction was no longer… necessary. 

He was anxious about tonight, though. “Do you mind if we check into the hotel room before dinner? I’d like to change clothes. Just feels right.”

“Sure, my dear.”

*

They checked in with no trouble and found the suite on the fourth floor. The flowery decor didn’t do much for Crowley, but Aziraphale turned a small circle on his way into the room and sighed. “Thank you so much, my dear. I’ve always been curious what it would be like to stay here.”

“Sure,” Crowley mumbled. He ducked into the bedroom to find the bathroom, where he could change. A duffel bag from the trunk of the Bentley hung on his shoulder.

He had almost closed the bathroom door behind him when he noticed. 

In the bedroom, two twin beds, draped in gold quilts, stood a foot apart.

There were two beds.

He dropped the duffel bag. “ _Shit._ ”

“What’s the matter?” Aziraphale called, poking his head in.

Crowley motioned to the beds. “They screwed up the reservation. Two tiny beds instead of one big one.” He fought rising panic. “I called and made a reservation for two for dinner, maybe I said something like that about the hotel room, too. I’ll fix this, okay? Just wait here and -”

He headed for the door, but Aziraphale caught him by the elbow. “It’s okay. We’ll just have to use both of them.”

“I don’t _want_ to use both of them,” Crowley growled, feeling tears pricking his eyes. _Double shit._

But Aziraphale was smirking. “I’m saying, we’ll just make sure both of them get _thoroughly_ used.”

The fight went out of Crowley, replaced with puzzlement. “You mean…?”

“I mean,” Aziraphale said. “And of course, we’ll pick one to sleep on. I intend to cuddle you close, so we don’t need a lot of space. That is, _if_ we sleep."

“ _Angel_ ,” Crowley breathed, stepping closer. "At this rate, we will not. I'd suggest we skip eating also, if I didn't know you'd be scandalized."

"Oh, no, we can't skip dinner." Aziraphale said very seriously. "But we could put it off for a while. Didn't you want to change clothes? I believe I could help you with the first part of that."

Crowley grinned. A surge of courage and giddiness was brimming under his fingertips. He took Aziraphale by the shoulders, spun them around, backed him to the closest bed. 

Pushed him onto it. 

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. "I take it you're amenable?"

"What time does the restaurant close?" Crowley asked. Of course, Aziraphale would know. 

"Ten," Aziraphale said, seeming a bit bewildered by the subject change.

"Good. I have plenty of time to drag… this… out." He kissed him between words.

Aziraphale smiled. "You can't threaten me with a good time."

"Let's see if I can turn _you_ into a blathering mess."

"Sounds delightful."

Crowley descended on him to kiss him. They didn't stop kissing as Aziraphale scooched back, pulling himself and Crowley all the way onto the bed. 

Crowley was reluctant to give up any control in one of these rare moments he had confidence, but he'd agreed to save the actual kink stuff for later. 

Aziraphale slid his hands under Crowley's jacket and peeled it off. "I want to undress you with no miracles, at some point."

"The feeling is mutual," Crowley said, "but can I use a miracle now?"

"Yes, darling."

Crowley straddled Aziraphale, feeling a growing erection against his own. He needed to keep calm and in control. This time was all about Aziraphale. 

He straightened up and snapped his fingers, and Aziraphale's clothes transported themselves to neatly lie on the other bed.

He was perched on top of a naked angel. Shit. His heart was galloping. He couldn't lose this nerve. 

Aziraphale gasped. "Oh! That's interesting."

"You okay?" Crowley asked. 

"Yes," Aziraphale panted, reaching down to grip Crowley's thigh. "That was intense. Lovely."

Crowley lowered himself onto his hands on either side of Aziraphale and kissed him. "C-can I look?"

Aziraphale nodded, still breathing hard. 

Crowley eased off of him and sat propped up on one arm beside him. He let his gaze wander down.

He'd seen the belly before, with its small, beautiful veil of pearly stretch marks. Beneath that, beneath a neat patch of white blond hair, was a gorgeous cock that stretched along his hip joint... quite a ways.

"Holy hell, Aziraphale," Crowley said, tracing fingers along the hip opposite. "Are you trying to show me up? I’ve always found mine perfectly adequate, but you went all-out."

"What? This is the effort I always make. The male one, anyways.”

Crowley blinked. He'd been unsure whether Aziraphale would experiment with female genitalia. He filed that answer away for later. 

Aziraphale shifted. “I did get rid of the foreskin when it went out of fashion, but I’m happy to manifest one if you prefer. Or I can reduce it, if it’s bothering you.”

"Not what meant. I guess you did say you'd never left a lover dissatisfied."

"Humans bicker about whether size or skill matters more. It's a non-issue with both."

Crowley laughed. "That’s true. Can I?"

"Please," Aziraphale said. 

Crowley inched closer and let his gaze run down Aziraphale’s legs, too. Those thighs. He pressed a hand into one of them as the other closed around Aziraphale’s cock.

Aziraphale inhaled sharply. A good noise. 

Crowley’s gaze shot up to Aziraphale’s face. He watched his eyes close and his head roll back, deeper into the pillow. 

He used spidery fingers to tease his way up the shaft. If they felt good on his belly, why not here?

His instinct was confirmed when he heard Aziraphale’s keen. He gave him a long, solid stroke, and his middle rose off the bed. 

Crowley’s confidence was replenishing nicely. He pulled a bottle of lube from his pocket - he’d found it stashed in the trunk of the Bentley. He wasn’t sure if it had been there since his thotting days or if the trusty car was just being its supportively smartass self.

Hand slicked, he magicked a little warmth into it and began stroking - slowly - even more slowly than Aziraphale had on him the night before.

Aziraphale let out a shuddering groan. His cock hardened - it didn’t grow any more, thank Someone, but it felt like velvet over steel.

“So,” Crowley said. “Wall of Eden? You wanted me?”

“Yes,” Azirapahle said. “Didn’t even know -” His breath hitched. “-what the feeling was. Just knew my body was warm, and I was painfully curious to touch you.”

Crowley’s heart melted, and it was a struggle to keep his movements slow. He wanted to bring him off - _now._

But he’d promised him a good time.

“When did you figure it out?”

“A few hundred years in... when I started experimenting with... efforts.”

“Coulda sworn you had an effort in Eden. You didn’t get clothes until the humans did, remember? I was already there, I was just, you know, a snake. You were way up on a wall, so it wasn’t like I got a _good_ look...”

“No, you’re right. I meant… I started experimenting with… touching my efforts.”

Crowley couldn’t help it. He sped up his hand. “You spent centuries with efforts and didn’t touch them? What did you do when they acted up?”

Aziraphale began to squirm. “I calmed them down. I wasn’t lying when I mentioned… I’d been preoccupied at one point with… Oh! Being angelically virginal.”

“Poor angel.”

“Don’t you _poor angel_ me. Oh, Crowley…!”

It sounded like Aziraphale wanted more, so Crowley slowed back down, daring to be a bit of a bastard. “I guess my experience was similar, in ways. Talking to you on the wall was my first time in a human body. I checked yours out, right away, of course, just curious. That was when I realized you didn’t have the sword, and all that. Right around then, I started thinking human bodies felt pretty nice. Thrilling, in a way. But after we parted, I realized my body had begun to feel… boring, somehow. I figured the thrill of being newly human had worn off. But when we saw each other again, the feeling came back. Figured it out pretty quickly, after that. Just the way it's always been.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a second, still breathing hard, but making no other noise. His face was red but he’d stopped squirming. “Did you just say… my body… _thrills_ yours?”

His confidence was wavering. "Did I say too much?” He slowed further. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, you gorgeous cretin, don’t you dare. And you can talk all you want if you’re going to say things like -”

Crowley’s next stroke got a little passionate and interrupted him.

“Oh, fuck!”

Crowley sniggered. “I got you to curse. Didn’t even have to use the coupon.” 

“Hush, and why are you still…” He sucked in a deep breath in reaction to an emphatic downstroke. “...dressed?” 

“Are you complaining?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?” Crowley teased. 

A huff. “I like you naked.”

Fuck, hearing him say so blatantly was sexy. He wasn’t even being touched, but he throbbed, tension coiling in his belly in a way he normally only experienced when he was.  
  


“And I like _you_ naked, and there’s something _nice_ about having you bare like this while I’m not.”

He kissed Aziraphale, almost sloppily with passion, and let his hand do as it liked. 

Aziraphale seemed unable to focus on the kiss, even if he could have controlled his breath. Crowley lowered his mouth to his nipples instead, sucking them back into their tiny raspberry-like nubs and then teething at them gently. 

He looked up to see Aziraphale with one arm flung over his face, and he pulled it away.

“Why are you hiding?”

“Not,” Aziraphale panted. “Just… so much… Ah!”

Crowley brought his other hand into play to tenderly squeeze Aziraphale’s balls, to tickle his perineum and explore those luscious thighs. He wanted to lick them, but that would bring his mouth far too close to Aziraphale’s cock, and he didn’t know if he could resist. 

“Not to be presumptuous,” he murmured. “But another time, I really want to get my mouth on you.”

Aziraphale practically wailed. 

Crowley beamed with pride and arousal. “I can do some really weird things with my tongue, you know? Wanna see?”

He lowered his mouth to Aziraphale’s nipple and let his tongue fork and flicker against it, lightly first, and then with some strength behind it.

Aziraphale’s arm was over his face again, the other hand scrabbling at the bedcovers. “Crowley, I’m going to -”

Crowley pulled the arm away and gently held it down. “I need to see. Come for me.”

He watched Aziraphale’s face as he felt hot fluid begin to spill over his hand. (Said fluid was miracled to vanish if it reached within a millimeter of the golden bedspread, but Crowley wanted to feel it.) Aziraphale’s skin was flushed, eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape, gasping. He tilted his head deeper into the pillow, and Crowley could feel the shaking tension building through Aziraphale’s body, and yet the muscles of his face and neck seemed relaxed, the corners of his mouth ever-so-slightly upturned.

_Rapturous_ was the word that came to mind, but that probably _was_ presumptuous. 

Aziraphale’s hips bucked off the bed and he groaned, not loudly, but gutturally in a way that would have made Crowley worried about a human partner and the well-being of their throat.

For thousands of years, he’d been envying the noises Aziraphale made over food. Food had never made him make _that_ noise before.

_Take that, food._

Crowley kissed him as he came down and kept stroking until Aziraphale’s free hand halted his with a touch. 

“Good?” Crowley asked, miracling the remainder of the mess away.

Aziraphale laughed. “I’d pick a stronger word. _Euphoric_ might do.” 

Crowley almost word-vomited “I love you”... again. But he held it in. 

Aziraphale toyed with Crowley’s sleeve. “Wasn’t part of the point of this to undress you?”

“That was not my priority,” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale posed his fingers for a snap. “Then may I do the honors?”

Crowley stretched down next to him and nodded. He still wasn’t prepared for the abrupt all-over coolness and exposure. He might have yelped a little.

“You’re not wrong,” he laughed. “That _is_ intense.”

“Want to keep going?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yes,” Crowley said brightly. “But also no. I promised you dinner.” He continued under his breath. “And now that I have achieved victory in my long-standing feud with food, I kinda want to rub that in its face.”

“My dear, what are you talking about?”

Crowley had apparently not mumbled it quietly enough. His face began to flush.

“Absoluuuuutely nothing,” he said, edging away from Aziraphale. “I’m gonna -"

Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley's upper arm. "Stay with me a few more minutes," he said, pulling him closer. 

"Sure," Crowley said, heart filling with helium again.

They cuddled closer, knees tangled, foreheads close, arms wrapped loosely around each other. They didn't quite dare to bring their bodies flush. Not yet, not while they were both completely naked. 

Aziraphale's breathing slowly evened out. 

Crowley inched his head back so he could look at Aziraphale's eyes without going cross-eyed. They opened, and he smiled.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

"For what you said about your body's reaction to mine."

"Oh. I'm just glad it didn't scare you."

"You could never scare me."

A part of Crowley knew that in the past, heating that would have been insulting. Now it was just a relief. 

Aziraphale sighed. "Okay. Cuddle accomplished. You can get dressed if you like. If you must."

"That cheesecake calling your name?"

Azirapahle smiled. "Something like that."


	21. The (extremely embarrassed) demon in a blue dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Roses," Crowley blurted.

Aziraphale lay naked on the hotel bed in the Ritz, still floaty and high from his orgasm. Crowley was good with his hands, and it probably had helped that Aziraphale had communicated - through their former experimentations and through the ways he’d touched Crowley - the ways he preferred to be touched. But Crowley had nailed it. 

And his hands were still nothing compared to that tongue. Having Crowley’s mouth on him would be interesting, indeed. And on a female effort…

He was thinking way too far ahead, but he couldn’t help it. Happy bubbles intermingled with more Luna moths in his stomach.

The shower started, and Aziraphale almost felt guilty. Poor Crowley was probably taking a cold shower just so he could take Aziraphale to dinner. 

He miracled his clothes back on and paced into the next room to his small briefcase containing a book, something he’d brought in case Crowley slept for another long time.

He’d opted to leave all parties of the “pretentious spank bank” at the shop in favor of something tame. It didn’t seem like he would be needing any help from Neruda tonight.

So he withdrew a battered paperback copy of Borges’ Labyrinths - an excellent distraction book that took up even more of his mind than most books did while he read it. It was one of the ones Crowley had read at his recommendation. 

He had almost finished _ The Library of Babel _ when Crowley appeared in the bedroom doorway. “It's been a while since I wore a dress."

Aziraphale looked up.

Crowley stood in the doorway in a long, tight-fitting dress of a pretty navy blue color. It hugged his beautiful hips. He hadn’t manifested breasts, but the dress had been tailored across the chest. It was simple. Elegant. Even his makeup was reserved. 

“You look marvelous, darling! So classy.”

“Well…” Crowley turned around. The dress was backless, save for loose gold chains affixed to a gold snake coiling down his back.

Aziraphale choked a little. 

Crowley whirled around, gaping. "Did you just make my noise?"

"Sorry?"

"The weird chokey grunt thing. I'm rubbing off on you!"

Aziraphale kept his face in an impassive smile. "I daresay that might be an idea for later.”

“Ngk... That one! That noise!” 

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand. “My dear, you are mouthwatering."

Crowley’s face reddened and he looked away. “Careful, angel, or this dress might end up outranking the striped dress of 2015 as my favorite of all time.”

Aziraphale put down his book and stood. “The blue and black one?”

Crowley grinned. “No, the white and gold one. But also yes. Have I told you how much demonic miracling it took to get the lighting just right for that photo? And about the looks I get when I wear it?”

“Yes, you’ve told me. Now, what are your pronouns tonight?”

“Male, I think. Maybe we can throw some old-fashioned, old-money diners for a loop. Ready?”

Aziraphale offered his elbow. "Let's dine."

In the elevator, Crowley's hand slid down Aziraphale's forearm to his hand. When they entered the restaurant, their fingers intertwined. 

Once they were seated and they'd let go of each other for a minute, Aziraphale braved a topic. "Don't run away if I ask this, but what did you mean about winning a victory against food?"

Crowley's face reddened. "Um. Okay. I think you are aware you make erotic noises when you eat, right?"

_ Only around you.  _ "Yes?"

"I got you making even better noises just now. So I win."

Aziraphale inspected him in a way he knew would make Crowley flush brighter. "Crowley. You can't be jealous of food…?"

"Not anymore," Crowley retorted with obvious bluster. "I won."

Aziraphale lowered his voice. "Food and sex are completely different pleasures."

Crowley smirked. "They don't have to be."

“That’s true. I’d love to combine you and chocolate sometime.” 

Crowley jolted and clapped a hand over his mouth as if to stifle a spit-take. 

Aziraphale let him recover. 

Finally, he met Aziraphale’s gaze. "We seem to be making a list."

"At this point, I think it's obvious we both have long lists we need to cross-reference."

Crowley exhaled. “Something like that.”

"But not here," Aziraphale amended. 

Crowley gave him a puzzled, awestruck look, like there was something he wanted to ask.

"What's wrong?" Aziraphale asked. 

"Roses," Crowley blurted. "A while back, I was having a fantasy about roses and accidentally miracled up the scent, and when you noticed, I said I passed gas."

"You could have just said you were thinking about roses," Aziraphale said. "I didn't know you liked them that much."

"Roses and  _ you _ ," Crowley corrected. "Like, showering you with them, making you a bed of petals, and oh my Satan, discorporate me now."

He buried his face in his hand. 

Aziraphale preened, moved that Crowley had been lying in the backroom of the bookshop and thinking about things like that. But he resisted the temptation to  _ awww,  _ to say "That's sweet.” Crowley was too embarrassed right now to be teased. 

So he took Crowley's free hand and squeezed. "Thank you for telling me. Now, don't go acting embarrassed while wearing such a bold dress. It doesn't suit."

Crowley straightened, and the waiter graciously arrived with appetizers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s dress looks like this. Except dark blue. Roberto Cavalli does fun snakey things.  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/85/23/e3/8523e3e39f65df8588d9d8b59c71e13d.png
> 
> And yes, I’ve decided Crowley was responsible for the blue and black dress of 2015.


	22. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah. So Aziraphale’s mercy had run out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea where this was going or how to work in the prompt until I wrote it. Fun times.

Crowley was relieved Aziraphale had been merciful about his rose confession. Crowley had blurted it out to keep from saying anything worse. Like  _ I love you. _

Aziraphale seemed cautious and reluctant to tease for the rest of dinner, so they made earnest conversation about the food and the works of Jorge Luis Borges.

As soon as they got back to the hotel room, Aziraphale took a seat at the desk. “About those lists.”

Crowley flopped onto the sofa. “Which lists?”

“Our lists of sex acts we need to cross-reference.”

Ah. So Aziraphale’s mercy had run out.

Crowley breathed deeply. “What about them?”

“Well, the things that have come up today include fellatio, frottage, food play, and rose petals. We have also mentioned some BDSM dynamics in the past but we haven’t gotten into specifics.”

“Um. Yeah. True. What do you want me to say?”

“Well, share with me more of your fantasies? I can go first, if you like.”

Crowley held up a hand. “Aren’t you worried we’ll, like, overwhelm each other, talking about it? Go too fast?”  _ Aren’t you making kind of a big commitment, to keep sleeping with me? _

Aziraphale looked concerned. “For my part, I’m always open to communication. Are you overwhelmed?”

“No,” Crowley lied. “I just don’t want to push you.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Try me.”

Crowley was going to discorporate. “Don’t say that.”

“Are you clinging to some image of me as angelically virginal? Because you should know better by now. I’m difficult to scandalize, Crowley.”

“That’s not it,” Crowley said. “I’m not worried about scandalizing you with some kink.”  _ I’m worried about scandalizing you with my feelings. _

“It still sounds to me like you’re overwhelmed.”

Shit. Aziraphale knew him too well. “Not - not in the sexual overload kinda way. There are just things I don’t think you’ll want to hear.”

Aziraphale seemed to ponder this for a minute. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But when you do want to tell me, you can tell me anything, okay?”

Crowley highly doubted that. He highly doubted Aziraphale was ready to hear _ I love you _ or _ I’d let you do anything you wanted to me. _

“I don’t care what you’re into,” Aziraphale continued. “I’ll still care about you and try to make it work. Okay?”

Aziraphale wasn’t getting it. But that was probably for the better. 

“Okay,” Crowley choked out. 

“Do we need to table this conversation?”

“L-let me try it,” Crowley said. “You go first. What do you want to put on the list?”

Aziraphale sat back in the chair. “Well, I think our next step should be masturbating together.”

Crowley found he wasn’t shocked. He didn’t feel the need to choke-grunt. Maybe he was… adjusting.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Why’s that?”

“I’m actually wondering if we should have started there. See, when I touched you, it was the way I liked to be touched. And you caught onto that and gave me an incredible orgasm earlier. But I’m wondering if that’s how you would have touched me if I hadn’t gotten you off first. How you touch, in general, organically.”

Crowley was confused. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because I’d hate to think I didn’t know how  _ you _ prefer to be touched.”

“That doesn’t matter, though,” Crowley said, trying to figure out how to explain this without giving away too much.

“Whyever not?”

_ Screw it, _ Crowley thought. This bit of information would be less intense than  _ I love you _ or _ I’d let you do anything you wanted to me, _ so maybe he should test the waters with it. 

“It doesn’t matter because I don’t care how I used to touch myself. When I masturbate from now on, I’ll be trying to replicate how your hands feel.”

Crowley looked up. Aziraphale’s face didn’t change for several seconds. Then it began to rapidly turn red. He put his hand over his mouth. 

“Goodness,” he whispered. 

Crowley rose to his feet, gesticulating. “I told you! I tried to warn you it was too much, too fast!”   
  


“Crowley,” Aziraphale scolded softly. 

Crowley paced in haphazard circles. “You’re not ready to hear these things. You’re not ready to hear exactly how much I fucking care about this, and now I’ve gone and fucked everything up!”

“You did not,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley didn’t buy it. He couldn’t even bear to look and check for sincerity. “Yeah? I just hurt you. I just scared you! I should have known. Angel, demon, there’s no way I could ever be -”

A hand seized his arm and spun him around. Arms closed in around his shoulders, and Aziraphale was hugging him.

“You didn’t scare me, Crowley,” Aziraphale said into his hair. “You didn’t hurt me. I was just deeply moved. My reaction was strong, yes, but it wasn’t  _ bad _ .”

Crowley melted into the embrace and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s back. “You said you were difficult to scandalize,” he half-sobbed.

“I know. I am. But it’s you. You have the power to move me to that kind of… emotion. That was the best kind of overwhelming.”

Crowley realized he knew exactly what he was talking about. It was the same wonderful, emotionally overloaded feeling Aziraphale had been inducing in him constantly lately. Aziraphale was just confident about it, and Crowley… was not.

“Sorry,” Crowley said. “You were having a good moment and you had to take care of my meltdown.”

“That’s another good thing, though,” Aziraphale said. “You let me take care of you.”

“That’s… something you want?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale squeezed tighter. “I don’t think we’ve ever done this. So much for not skipping steps.”

Crowley breathed in Aziraphale’s scent and let it soothe his soul. Slowly, a sense of acceptance crept into him.

Maybe this could last. Maybe Aziraphale really was in this for the long haul, regardless of those three little words. Maybe they would come, in time. 

He kissed him. He kissed him as gently as he wanted, and gradually let himself slip into as much passion as he wanted. He vibrated his tongue against Aziraphale’s, wrapped it with his own, letting a few of his serpentine talents show.

When he felt Aziraphale getting hard against his leg, he finally came up for air.

“Earlier,” he said, “you proposed mutual masturbation. I’d like to present a counter proposal."

“Hmm?” Aziraphale hummed against his lips. 

"Fellatio."

Aziraphale smirked. “What’s your argument?”

“My argument is,” Crowley said, pushing him back to the wall, “I want my mouth on you. Now.”

  
  
  



	23. He could do really weird things with his tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cross my heart and hope to discorporate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, sexytimes in Aziraphale's point of view. This one got out of hand, too. SOME of these are gonna have to be short... Also, it seems like the humor might take a back seat for a few chapters.

_ "You’re not ready to hear exactly how much I fucking care about this…" _

Those words had cut Aziraphale to his core, but not because they were correct. Curiosity was too weak of a word for what they stimulated in him. He  _ needed to know.  _

And it was obvious how to ask. When he told Crowley he wanted a romantic relationship, he had decided to save the words  _ I love you _ for later. One step at a time.

It was time to reconsider. 

But when Crowley pushed him against the wall and expressed desire to put his mouth on him immediately, who was Aziraphale to deny him?

"Yes," he said, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Crowley hummed an approving noise, nipped at Aziraphale's neck, and dropped to his knees. 

Aziraphale found Crowley's hair with his fingers and gazed down. Without breaking eye contact, Crowley smirked and opened his mouth to fasten his lips over Aziraphale's bulge, breathing hot air.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley's hair, and Crowley backed away to turn his attention to his trouser buttons. 

He scrabbled with them for a few seconds, during which Aziraphale found himself both impatient and overcome with how adorable Crowley was. 

"Confounded… 19th century…" Crowley raised his fingers and snapped, and Aziraphale's trousers were pushed halfway down his thighs. 

Crowley looked up and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Aziraphale's pants. "Still okay?"

"Yes," Aziraphale assured him.

Crowley nuzzled at Aziraphale's erection through the cotton for a moment, then slowly began easing his pants down. 

When Aziraphale's cock was free, he took the head into his mouth without even touching it first. 

Aziraphale gasped and pushed back against the wall to keep from bucking. The pressure of Crowley's mouth was light, delicate. He was still easing Aziraphale's pants down, and then his trousers also, all the way down to his knees.

That done, he squeezed Aziraphale's lower hamstrings. He massaged his way upward, around to his hips, and then pulled him forward to slide his cock deeper into his mouth. 

Aziraphale whimpered 

Crowley pulled off. "You okay?"

"Yes. Good reaction."

"Good." Crowley stroked up and down Aziraphale's spit-wet length. “Ready for the weird stuff?”

Aziraphale’s brain contained little blood. “Sorry?”

Crowley looked up, took him in his mouth again, and Aziraphale felt a light rhythm against the underside of his cock head as Crowley fluttered his tongue into the little V there. 

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale groaned. “Yes, I’m ready for as much of that as you want to give me.”

Crowley chuckled around his cock, and it resonated through him. He hadn’t recovered when Crowley’s tongue flitted again, this time with a heavier pulse that only grew. Aziraphale was lost in the sensation when Crowley started to suck, which slowed the rhythm but seemed to tug at his very essence, pulling his soul down into that part of him alone.

Aziraphale continued to toy with Crowley's hair, trying to reward every sexual sensation with an affectionate one. 

The suction and vibration slowed to a stop, and Aziraphale barely stifled a cry of protest. But Crowley didn’t pull away. He sank his lips deeper onto Aziraphale’s cock, until the head was in the tightness of his throat. Crowley felt the pressure decrease as Crowley’s tongue slid along the remainder of his length, down to his root. And then his tongue slid up the side of him and encased his entire cock in a spiral.

“Oh, that is a tal - “

The tongue constricted like a snake, squeezing. Aziraphale could not suppress a guttural groan as the spiralled tongue dragged down his length and slipped back into Crowley’s mouth.

“Talent,” Aziraphale breathed. 

Crowley kissed the tip of his cock and grinned up at him. “Fun as that is, I don’t think I can keep it up repeatedly.”

Aziraphale ran a fingertip along Crowley's ear. “I’d discorporate if you could.”

“I can do this, though.” Crowley wiggled his tongue in his mouth, and it looked like a snake swimming, wiggling through water. 

He applied this to Aziraphale’s scrotum and up along the underside of his length. The sensation melted him, teased him, made him squirm. He wouldn’t like it at all, if he didn’t love it. 

“That might make for fun kissing,” Aziraphale managed. “Why haven’t you - ah - done that before?”

“It throws some people off. Didn’t want to startle you.” He gazed up. “Want me to come up there and kiss you now?"

_ Yes. But I also want you down there. I so love the things you’re doing down there.  _

“Kidding, angel,” Crowley laughed, and the breath on his wet effort made him shiver. “I’ve barely started."

He took him in for a hard suck, rolled his tongue like an R, bobbed his head, fluttered his tongue harder, slipped it all the way around him again, squeezed with it, sucked more softly, teasing. 

During the hand job a few hours earlier, Aziraphale had found his attention vacillating. One instant his entire focus would be in his lower torso, soaking up sensation, and then Crowley would speak or do something to remind him  _ this was Crowley,  _ and his heart and brain would reactivate in pure awe. 

With Crowley's uniquely serpentine tongue on him, there was no forgetting for an instant who exactly was attending to him. It might have distracted from the sensation, but said sensation was powerful enough, a bit of distraction was probably a necessary mercy. 

Crowley slid off to lick him from base to tip, but his tongue felt different. Aziraphale looked down to find Crowley’s tongue slipping off of him, now forked. 

He sucked in air. “Why is that so hot?”

Crowley chuckled. “Got a thing for snakes?”

“I’ve got a thing for you.” And Crowley still hadn’t taken that dress off, bloody hell…

Crowley abruptly sucked him down with renewed vigor. Aziraphale gasped for air and keened. He no longer trusted his hands in Crowley's hair, so he scrabbled at the wall with one hand while the other clutched at the mantle of the fireplace beside him. 

Crowley's hands slid between the wall and Aziraphale’s ass, and his fingers slowly dug in as he sucked and bobbed in earnest, all the while keeping a pulsing rhythm with his tongue. He meant business now, and Aziraphale was tensing all over, starting to shake with stimulation, with pleasure and need.

Crowley slid off and stroked him with a tight fist to ask, "Should I slow down?"

"No, please. I'm - ah - ready."

Crowley gave another thoughtful hum but took him at his word. 

Aziraphale's orgasm came on so gradually, he couldn't tell the moment it started. A few seconds in, his knees gave out. He slid only a few inches against the wall before Crowley tightened his grip on his backside to catch him. 

This meant Crowley couldn't use his hands, and Aziraphale's length normally would have made that necessary… so Aziraphale immediately knew he was in trouble. 

Sure enough, the teasing pressure of Crowley's mouth alone kept the orgasm slow. He let loose a stream of curses and felt Crowley's lips tighten, probably fighting a smile, a smile around his goddamn cock, while he was lost in the grips of the world's slowest orgasm, holy fuck…

It only sped up a little when Crowley swallowed, mouth tightening, draining him dry. 

When the orgasm crested at last, he shrieked with relief. His ears rang faintly. The surge of warmth the orgasm left in his veins felt like champagne, sparkly and bittersweet. His cock sensitized, and he nudged Crowley back. 

Aziraphale slid to the floor and caught Crowley by the chin to pull him in for a kiss. The taste of his own spend had never felt precious before, but on Crowley's tongue, that was the best word for it.

"I…" Aziraphale breathed, "am going to figure out… how to suck  _ you  _ this dry."

"That a promise?" Crowley grinned cheekily. Looks like blowjobs, at least, were something he was confident about. 

And rightly so. 

"Cross my heart and hope to discorporate," Aziraphale said. He miracled himself some strength back and while he was at it, miracled his trousers and pants back together. He stood, pulling Crowley to his feet. "In fact, why don't I start now?"

"You don't have to," Crowley said, but his dress was tented. 

Aziraphale took his shoulders and backed him up to the sofa. "Don't sit quite yet." 

Crowley swallowed. "Okay."

Aziraphale dropped to one knee to wrap his hands around the hem of the dress. "May I?"

Crowley gulped again and nodded. 

Aziraphale slowly lifted the dress, letting the backs of his fingers run along Crowley's legs. When he reached his hips, he gasped. 

Crowley was wearing lacy panties that barely contained his building erection. They were blue to match the dress, but a much lighter shade. Aziraphale wondered why, but it was no time to ask.

"Gorgeous," he said, looking up at Crowley, who was looking away, face crimson. "If I thought the dress was mouthwatering…"

Crowley laughed. It sounded nervous. "Don't overdo it."

He thought Aziraphale was exaggerating? Well, then.

He latched his mouth onto Crowley's erection, licking through the lace. Crowley let out a shuddering groan.

Aziraphale bunched the dress into his left fist and slipped his right to feel Crowley's backside. It was a thong. He hummed approval against Crowley's cock, plucked the string with a finger, and let it snap back. 

" _ Ngk. _ Oh, god. Can I sit now?"

"Almost." Aziraphale slipped the panties down to Crowley's ankles, where they made a pretty picture alongside his silver snakeskin heels. "Now you can."

Crowley fell back onto the cushions, and Aziraphale eased his knees apart. He pulled the panties the rest of the way off. They snagged on a heel, which fell from Crowley's foot, but Aziraphale decided not to bother with the other. He stroked a finger up the side of the bare foot and settled in between Crowley's knees. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Crowley breathed, fists clenched at his sides. 

Aziraphale smoothed his hands up his thighs, took him in hand, and licked up his shaft, on every side of it, until it was thoroughly lubricated. Crowley was already squirming, making all manner of beautiful, nonsensical noises. 

When he sucked him down at last, Crowley's hips came off the sofa. "Fuck. Sorry, I'm sorry, are you - ah!"

Aziraphale just sucked harder. He wasn't going to miss a beat indulging Crowley’s insecurities. Not right now. He couldn't do snakelike things with his tongue, but he could lick and swirl and lap up precum. It tasted like oysters. 

"Azira...phale, I'm losing... my mind. You're too good at this. Promise… accomplished."

_ Not yet.  _ Aziraphale slid his hands up Crowley's sides underneath his dress and found his nipples. He thumbed them in slow circles, and Crowley keened. 

Crowley was so thin, Aziraphale's hands wrapped around his sides almost to his back, as he toyed with Crowley’s nipples beneath the dress. Holding him like this, with hands and mouth on his most sensitive places, made the word  _ precious _ come to mind again. 

Crowley was  _ his. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all for bearing with me despite the TYPOS. UGH. I've been writing this on my phone for the most part and autocorrect is a cheeky little bitch. WHY would it autocorrect "gaped" to "raped" every time? Whyyyyyyy


	24. Love potion

Crowley writhed under Aziraphale’s touches, nipples and cock all singing with pleasure. The way Aziraphale held onto him with both hands around his chest, with his mouth still fastened on his cock, made him feel somehow held, guarded. By the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. 

And yet he was wildly aroused. He found himself holding his arms over his head to grip the back of the sofa.

Aziraphale’s hands eventually travelled down his torso, skated across his hips, settled on his thighs.

Aziraphale took his mouth off of him for the first time to take hold of the hem of the dress and say, “Lean forward. Can’t have that metal snake digging into you and distracting you.”

Crowley obeyed, and Aziraphale pulled the dress off over his head. 

Aziraphale got to his feet, kissed him. “Touch yourself for me for a minute?”

Crowley whined but took himself in hand, still slick. He did touch himself differently than he had before. Aziraphale had pumped him with more of a twist than he usually indulged in, with a certain extra pressure in his fingertips, and Crowley tried feebly to replicate that with shaking hands, while Aziraphale, the teasing bastard, hung Crowley’s dress in the closet. 

Aziraphale turned around and smirked at Crowley, who had to look away. Blinding.

“You are a vision, touching yourself for me, wearing nothing but a shoe.”

Crowley had forgotten he was wearing one heel. Now it bothered him, but he couldn’t take it off because Aziraphale said he liked it. 

Crowley still couldn’t make eye contact, but he managed to smirk. “Are you going to make me finish myself?” It came out sounding like an offer. 

“I think we can come to a compromise,” Aziraphale said, coming back to kneel between his legs again. He pushed his knees apart unnecessarily far, and Crowley whimpered.

“Bastard.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Just enough of one, if I recall correctly. Would you touch your chest for me, now?”

“Fuck, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, but his hands went to his chest. 

Aziraphale was already wrapping one hand around Crowley’s base and massaging his balls with the other, lowering his head. Crowley couldn’t look away, and Aziraphale’s eyes flickered upward as he sucked Crowley in once more. 

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back, completely overcome. 

Just a few seconds later, Aziraphale slid off. “If I wasn’t clear, I’d like you to stimulate your nipples, and please don’t hold back. Show me the best ways to touch them. I assure you I can multitask to observe.”

Crowley made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat but his fingers moved as if of their own accord, honing in on his tight nipples. He tried to thumb them in circles like Aziraphale had, but he couldn’t get the right angle, and Aziraphale’s mouth fell onto him again, and his brain went blank. 

His fingers instinctively moved to react to every flicker of Aziraphale’s tongue. Aziraphale had asked him not to hold back. He couldn’t have if he tried. 

And yet, the feel of his passionately reactive pinching and rolling and scissoring took a backseat to the feel of Aziraphale’s mouth on him, those fingertips seeking out every sensitive nook and cranny of him. 

“Oh, fuck,” he swore. He felt so overwhelmingly vulnerable, moved, teased.  _ Touched. _ Why did brains and hearts have to get involved with sex and inflate every fucking motion with emotion? If he could pretend it wasn’t Aziraphale, maybe he could keep his sanity, but that idea was blasphemy. 

Aziraphale was stroking his perineum when his mouth slipped away. "Lift your hips for a second."

Crowley's mind boggled. Was this going where he thought it was? Slowly, he raised his hips, Aziraphale stroking his cock with his right hand. 

Sure enough, the other hand, the one beneath him, inched back. "Is this Okay?"

He was going to lose his mind, but… "Yeah."

Aziraphale, so slowly, eased his hand upward until he found Crowley's opening. His finger traced the tight rim, and Crowley squirmed anew. 

"Still okay?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley nodded. 

"You can lower your hips now. I'm not going much farther than this."

Much. 

Crowley settled back onto the sofa reluctantly, pinning Aziraphale's hand. It wiggled under him, somehow toying with the tender flesh behind his balls and at the same time, teasing his rim. Aziraphale was coordinated. 

And he was taking Crowley back into his mouth on top of it all. Crowley flooded with relief and desperation at the same time. 

He was back to that point where he was gasping out fragments of Aziraphale's name. It wasn't that he'd lost control, it was that he'd forgotten it somewhere. 

Aziraphale pressed farther onto him, and he was deepthroating, and only seconds later, his fingertip pressed into Crowley's opening. 

Crowley heard himself  _ squeal.  _

"I'm going to co -"

The word garbled into a groan as orgasm wrecked him. Aziraphale moved no more quickly but somehow all the more passionately, guiding him in another of those impossible climbs, and Crowley dug his own nails into his palms for fear of passing out again.

But this time he didn't miss a moment. He floated down, dazed. 

Aziraphale's hands slowed, and even when they hurt against him, Crowley couldn't bring himself to ask him to stop. He twitched sharply, though, and Aziraphale withdrew, hand sliding gently out from under him to smooth over his knee, comforting. 

"You okay?" 

Crowley nodded. "No blackouts this time, so don't you dare put me to sleep."

"I won't, but I admit the fact that you haven't opened your eyes yet makes me wonder if you need it."

Crowley opened his eyes. Aziraphale was standing up, smirking. Those icy blues trained on him were still a bit blinding.

_ I love you.  _

"Hang tight just a moment," Aziraphale instructed. He vanished into the bedroom and returned moments later in cotton pajamas, carrying a gold quilt.

He snuggled in next to Crowley on the sofa, pulling him into a relaxed position and covering them both with the quilt. Crowley felt oddly docile, oddly relieved that the next order of business would be cuddling and nothing more intense. 

"I have something I need to tell you," Aziraphale said, rubbing Crowley's arm. "But I can't say it now. It's not something that should be said in a sex haze. We'll need to wait a bit."

"Okay," Crowley murneed. "How long?"

Aziraphale hummed and looked at the clock on the wall. "Midnight is in about an hour. I'll tell you then."

Crowley nuzzled Aziraphale's shoulder. His brain was slowly coming back online. "Can we talk about sex?"

"I suppose," Aziraphale said. 

"Is penetration the next step?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"We haven't had the baseball conversation yet," Crowley said. "Would you rather pitch or catch? I'm a vers, so it doesn't matter to me."

That wasn't entirely true. He normally preferred to top, but the idea of Aziraphale inside of him was exquisite. In this relationship, the two positions were bound to break pretty even.

"I'm versatile, too," Aziraphale said. "To be honest, I probably catch a bit more frequently. Hedonist and all."

"Want to plan on that arrangement, then? For the first time?"

"Sure," Aziraphale said. "You're getting the hang of this."

"Of what?"

"Talking about it."

"Hard to be embarrassed when I just had your fingertip inside me," Crowley said, but his face heated. 

"If that's what gives you confidence, I really need to pay your prostate a visit."

Crowley stifled a shudder. "Shut up."

Aziraphale kissed Crowley's hair. "And I need to put my tongue there."

_ Dear Satan. _ "Fuck... Stop it."

Aziraphale chuckled. "All in good time."

Aziraphale draped his arm over Crowley's shoulders, and Crowley slid his arm around Aziraphale's back. 

Crowley let himself enjoy this. For six thousand years, they hadn’t been able to touch, and now, here they were, touching for the sake of it.

Aziraphale wanted to be touching him.

He found Aziraphale’s hand under the blanket and wound their fingers together. Aziraphale squeezed. 

“Still a little unfair that I’m naked and you’re not,” Crowley complained. 

“I think a few boundaries are in order if we’re going to make it until midnight without jumping each other again. You can get dressed if you like.”

Crowley leaned his head against Aziraphale’s. “Nah.”

Minutes ticked on in comfortable quiet. Crowley began to doze in and out, Aziraphale nudged him and guided him to the bedroom. He finally kicked the heel off, and only stumbled a bit.

When Aziraphale motioned toward the same bed they’d used earlier, Crowley frowned. “Thought we were going to use both.”

“For sex, I think,” Aziraphale said. “This way, we’ll have to move to the other one to start things up again. Theoretically. It puts a small boundary in my mind, anyway.”

Crowley smiled sleepily. “Are you trying that hard not to jump me?”

“And succeeding quite nicely, I might add,” Aziraphale said. 

They snuggled in, and after a cat nap, Crowley found himself waking up feeling better than ever. Seriously  _ ever _ . He looked up at Aziraphale across the pillow from him. Aziraphale’s eyes focused on him, and he smiled. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale looked askance. “Do you ever wonder if She planned it this way?”

“I always wonder what she’s got her fingers in.”

“No, I mean, us. Yeah, for all that time, Heaven and Hell made this forbidden, but… did She? I mean, we kept running into each other, over and over and over. We kept finding each other all over the whole wide world. What if we were meant to end up like this, Crowley?”

_ Eww. _

Crowley scowled. “I don’t like that. I don’t like thinking she’s been manipulating us like that.”

“It makes me uncomfortable for some reason, too,” Aziraphale said. “Fate, destiny, soulmates, that kind of thing is supposed to be romantic, but in practice wouldn’t it be like a spiritual roofie, like a bad love potion?”

Crowley nodded. “Exactly. It’s not about Her, it’s about us.”

“What do you mean?”

Crowley braced himself to be vulnerable. “I -”  _ Love you.  _ “- care about you because you’re you. If God made you like that, I thank Her for it. But I don’t want to think she’s interfering anymore than that.”

Aziraphale smiled. "Regardless, it’s close enough to midnight now, so it’s time for that talk.”

Crowley’s heart pounded. What was this about? “I’m listening.”

Aziraphale took a breath. He was nervous. And that made Crowley nervous.

“This might be obvious by now,” Aziraphale said, “but even if it's not, there's no point keeping it from you."

Crowley was scared to let himself think where this might be going, but a part of him couldn't help it and rocketed into the sky with hope. "Oh?"

Aziraphale seemed to make sure Crowley was meeting his eyes. Then he said, "Crowley, I'm in love with you."

That skyrocketing piece of Crowley burst like a firework. And the rest of him followed. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between the coupons, the adjustments they've discussed, and all the kinks they've mentioned, I think I have enough to work with to carry into March. And possibly eternitaaaaaay. 
> 
> But I'll ask y'all for help if I get stuck 😜


	25. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then wait ‘til I introduce you to the person I love. Absolute angel, he is.”

Aziraphale had decided to phrase it so there could be no misinterpretation. No mistaking this for angelic love or friendly love. 

So he said, "Crowley, I'm in love with you."

Crowley's expression morphed into something like pain. Aziraphale was scared he'd miscalculated, especially when Crowley's knees drew up and he curled in on himself like he'd been punched in the gut. 

Aziraphale propped himself up, searching for the words to apologize without apologizing. 

"Do you mean it?" Crowley asked. 

"Of course, but I'm sorry if I've hurt you."

"You haven't. The opposite."

Aziraphale breathed and lowered himself to the pillow. "This is you being happy?"

"To quote a certain bookseller, 'I would pick a stronger word.'"

"Are you really so surprised?"

"No. A part of me isn't. But that doesn't make it any less…" He trailed off. 

Aziraphale worked some cheek into his voice. "I suppose there's really no way to be sure until the words are said…?”

"Oh, shit." Crowley unraveled, reaching for him, and Aziraphale could see the tears now. "Of course I love you, too. I'm in love with you, too. Shit, please tell me you knew, you didn't think I didn't -"

Aziraphale smoothed a hand over his arm. "I was scared for a minute I'd made a wrong turn, but I didn't doubt you cared about me, not for a second."

"If for one instant I made you think you cared about this more than I did, I'm gonna… "

"Torture yourself about it? No need. Please promise me you won't. I love you."

“Agh!” Crowley's eyes spilled over again. “Fine, just stop saying it, I’ll promise you anything you want.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Promise me you’ll start letting me stoke your confidence.”

“Now, that's dangerous." He flashed a smile. "But I can deal with it."

"Promise me you'll never run away to Alpha Centauri without me."

"I didn't the first time!"

"Promise me you'll use the coupons responsibly."

Crowley matched Aziraphale's cheeky smile. "Ah, you've found one I can't make after all."

"I jest. Those are my promises to you. They're all yours."

Crowley rolled onto his back, hand over his eyes. “Can I ask, um, when?"

"How long have you, um, loved me?"

"Since sometime in the fourteenth century."

"What." Crowley's voice was flat. "That long ago? I-I hated the fourteenth century."

"You were miserable. I couldn't stand seeing you like that, and it made me realize. I disappeared for a few years to process it, and I'm sure that didn't help."

"Fuck. I'm gonna have to rethink my relationship to that time period, now, if it made you love me."

" _ You _ made you love me. Like you said. It was us being ourselves."

"That long ago? Six, seven hundred years?"

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale said. “I loved you before that. That was just when I knew. I had always been smitten with you, but around 1350, I knew it was more, and it wasn't something that would change. I didn't want it to. I don't."

Crowley was covering his face again. “I want to know what it was I did, exactly, that made you fall for me.”

“Hmmm. Well, if you want me to name a real shining armor moment, I started to suspect you might love me when you saved my books in the Blitz. But really, everything you’ve ever done has made me fall for you a little deeper.”

Crowley was scarlet. “Come on, there are plenty of things I do that you don’t like.”

“True,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t like them, but I still love you for them.”

“How does - Damn it. I know exactly how that works. It’s like how you dress like a 19th century dandy and I hate it, and yet you wouldn’t be you without it, so I love it.”

Aziraphale’s mind spun with things he wanted to say. “You know, as an agent of God’s love on Earth, I’ve advised humans on love at times. I’ve said there are types of love that should be conditional and types that should be unconditional. Unconditional love is like a mother’s love for a child. No matter what that child does, the mother should always love them.”

“Too bad our mother isn’t like that,” Crowley grumbled. 

“You don’t know that for sure,” Aziraphale said. “But that’s not my point. When I end up talking to humans who are being abused by a partner, I remind them that romantic love shouldn’t be unconditional. Romantic love should be conditional upon how you’re treated.”

“Sounds like solid advice,” Crowley said. 

“But we’re not human. We’ve been around each other for six thousand years. We’ve hurt each other plenty and healed from all of it. I wonder if we could be an exception. I mean, it’s not like we have family to fall back on.”

Crowley smirked. “Are you saying you want to be my family?”

“I’m saying something even deeper than that. But since you asked, no, I’m not proposing yet.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped. “ _ Ngk!  _ Dear  _ Somebody, _ Aziraphale.  _ Yet? _ ”

Aziraphale shrugged. “I suppose I won’t at all if you beat me to it. But again, one step at a time.”

Crowley pulled his knees up again. “The fact that you’ve even thought about it…”

“Of course I have. I love you.”

Crowley covered his face. “Ugh, shut up! Where are my sunglasses?”

He reached towards where they sat on the end table. Aziraphale couldn’t have that. He pulled Crowley back by the elbow. “No, you don’t. Don’t hide from me. I love you.”

“Shut it!” Crowley hissed, but he set his head back on the pillow. 

“Or what?” Aziraphale teased. 

“Or I’m gonna see how you like it.”

“Oh? I think I’d handle it pretty well, considering I love you.”

Crowley was visibly gritting his teeth. “I’ve loved you since the garden wall, the first time you used that goddamn word.”

Since  _ Eden?  _ “What word?”

“Ineffable.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Why did that do it for you?”

“Sapiosexuality, in part,” Crowley said cheekily. “But I guess it was that whole little lecture, really. There you were, trying to get the Serpent of Eden to stop blaspheming, as if I could be redeemed. So I started checking you out, got turned on, noticed your sword missing. You know the story from there. Basically, you acted like I was worth something. So, yeah. I’ve loved you for a while.”

Aziraphale was starting to feel giddy. And also terrible. “Oh, my dear, you’ve carried this so much longer than I have.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “No, no, don’t go doing that. I’m trying to make you happy-cry, not guilty-cry. Besides, you don’t know that, right? You don’t know when you fell in love with me. It could’ve been on the wall.”

“I was certainly smitten with you right away. But why don't you keep trying?"

“To make you cry?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Okay.” Crowley swallowed. “Okay. I’m not proposing either -  _ yet _ \- but I do want a ring on your finger if Heaven ever tries to come claim you again. Not to mention pesky humans. And I want to show you, if I’m free to, how far I’d go for you.”

“You already have, just by waiting for so long.”

Crowley smirked. “No, I haven’t.”

Aziraphale was tearing up. He was in awe of Crowley, of the depth of his love, and he felt his own deepening, opening up automatically to return it. 

“Okay, mission accomplished." He seized Crowley's face and kissed him. Their mouths opened briefly, but right before it could get heated, he pulled back. 

He was about to start sobbing now. “You are the most beautiful soul I’ve ever fucking known.”

“Then wait ‘til I introduce you to the person I love. Absolute angel, he is.”

“And the sweetest smartass.”

Crowley was starting to turn green and get a dazed look in his eyes. “Yeah, okay, that’s enough, this conversation needs to end before I combust.”

So Aziraphale just held his hands and looked at him. He kept looking away, but slowly, he was able to hold eye contact for longer and longer. He was getting there.

They were getting there.

  
  



	26. Love song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Angel, I swear to God, I will go back to being your hereditary enemy if I have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early today as a plea for help. Guys, if you know what spoons are... I need spoons. (If you don't, Google "spoon theory") 
> 
> And y'all's comments give me spoons. 
> 
> I'm not above begging. Halp.

After almost half an hour of adjusting to intimate eye contact, Crowley realized Aziraphale wasn’t just silently coaching him through his intimacy issues. In a way, he was giving him space. Silence. He was waiting for Crowley to speak again before he did.

The mischief-maker side of him wanted to keep his mouth shut just to see how long Aziraphale would last. Would it be a reflection of Aziraphale’s love for him? Was it a way to test?

The other part wanted to say something immediately, so Aziraphale wouldn’t have to hold back.

“Let’s take a selfie,” he blurted.

Aziraphale frowned. "Crowley, you're naked."

Crowley climbed out of bed to retrieve his phone. "Shoulders up, angel, it'll be fine. And I don't have to share it."

As soon as he was fetching the phone, though, he was particularly aware he was naked. He had to fight not to cover himself on the way back, and Aziraphale wasn't helping. He was looking, only blushing slightly.

Or maybe that was helping. 

In any case, Crowley climbed back into bed without saying anything and propped the camera up on his knee. Aziraphale leaned into the frame and began using it like a mirror to fix his hair. 

Crowley pushed his hands down. "Stop it. I want you all mussed."

"So you're not planning to share it?"

Crowley grinned. "Up to you. I don't care. I'm proud of messing up your hair."

"Well then I should be beaming with pride because yours is everywhere."

"Well, yeah, the things you were doing to it while I was blowing you were -"

"Hush!"

Crowley inspected Aziraphale in the camera. "Why are you suddenly shy? It's not recording."

"It's not?"

Crowley poked him in the side. "Did I just find a weakness? You keep flustering me, but it's always in private. Perhaps in public I can return the favor."

"Stop it, you. Just take the photo." Aziraphale poked Crowley back and he stifled a ticklish reaction. 

"I found your weakness," Crowley singsonged. "Soon as we get out of here, I'm gonna embarrass you."

Aziraphale huffed but he was still smiling. 

"Look at the camera, not at me," Crowley said. 

Aziraphale did. Crowley snapped the picture. It was perfect, with the remnants of that smiling glare on Aziraphale's face.

"I wasn't ready." Aziraphale scooted closer. "Take another one."

He turned his head to plant his lips on Crowley's cheek just as he hit the button. 

Instead of blushing and blustering, Crowley went for broke and turned to kiss Aziraphale on the mouth, and took another picture. 

"Fiend," Aziraphale said against his lips. 

"I won't post them on social media, promise," Crowley said, turning back to the phone. "But I never did change my relationship statuses. And I definitely need to update my Tumblr now."

"What does that mean?" Aziraphale asked.

"Facebook and some others ask if you're in a relationship, and mine still say ‘Single’ right now."

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. "I'm familiar with that much. What did you mean about Tumblr?"

"Oh, uh..."

Shit. 

"I might, um, have a blog about you?”

“What?” Aziraphale hissed. 

Crowley slipped out of the bed, holding the phone guiltily behind his back, even though this left other parts of him very exposed. “Nothing personal, no pictures, just stuff that makes me think of you. Book reviews, events we've visited, history articles, plays I want to take you to, most of the memes I've shown you are on there. And, uh, other stuff."

Azirpahale got up, too. "What other stuff?" he demanded, but his smile betrayed him. He wasn't actually mad.

Crowley backed farther away, playful now. "Oh, just, like, um, LGBTQ things. You are practically the patron saint of that community."

Aziraphale advanced on him. "And you're not? You’re changing the subject, what don’t you want me to see?”

"Songs! And uh. Maybe some porn involving people who look like you."

Aziraphale huffed. "I would hope you don't have much need of that anymore." He stalked closer. "It has followers... Doesn't it? And those people know what it is. That's why you need to update it, to tell those people we're mutually in love."

The backs of Crowley's legs hit the bed. The  _ other _ bed. "Uh, we might have a small crowd of cheerleaders, yes."

Aziraphale held out his hand. "I want to see. Give it."

"No," Crowley said, sitting on the phone.

Aziraphale raised a warning eyebrow. "Last chance."

Crowley grinned. "In that case,  _ fuck _ no."

Aziraphale stepped into his personal space. His hand dug under his bare backside in search of the phone. Crowley squeaked in mock-offense and dug it out, raising it high, but it was still within Aziraphale's reach. 

So he fell back on the bed. Predictably, Aziraphale climbed up over him, but once he had him pinned, he seemed to forget about the phone. 

Crowley found himself being kissed absolutely senseless. 

When Aziraphale backed away at last, he put a phone on Crowley's chest. Crowley flexed empty hands. It was _h_ _ is _ phone. 

"Sneaky bastard."

"I'm giving it back. So show me. One post. That's all I'm asking."

Crowley groaned. "Fine. One post."

Aziraphale rolled off to the side while Crowley looked through for the right thing to show him. 

"Ah. Here's something I almost showed you at the time, but I didn't want you to read into it."

It was a YouTube link with lyrics to a song -  _ Reluctant Readers Make Reluctant Lovers _ . 

"The blog title is  _ Bowtie-Wearing Book-Hoarding Beautiful Bastard Angel _ ?  _ Really, _ Crowley?"

Crowley winced sheepishly. "Had to call it something."

"You didn't even use commas. And that alliteration!"

"Just-just listen to the song. I think you'll like it."

The song played. 

_ I've read Yates and Hemingway _

_ Maybe in our time it's liars in love _

_ Then you call out my name like lines from a page _

_ Feel my sins washed away, feels like I've been saved _

"You don't need saving, Crowley."

"Shh. Don't take it too seriously. It gets better."

_ Reluctant readers make reluctant lovers _

_ So baby I'm yours _

"That is endearing," Aziraphale said. "I daresay this band is setting the record straight."

Crowley laughed. 

_ I've read Joyce, I played Heller's games _

_ No matter your age the portrait's the same _

_ Yeah, no matter the place - _

"A Wilde reference," Aziraphale gasped. "Oh, he would love being commemorated like this."

"Too bad you can't pay him a visit," Crowley deadpanned. 

Aziraphale poked him, and he flinched. 

"Stop it," Aziraphale said. "We were friends and we had one erotic encounter, I wasn't  _ in love with him."  _

Before Crowley could answer, Aziraphale was digging fingers experimentally into his side, causing him to squirm quite a bit.

"Aziraphale, stop," Crowley said firmly. Fuck, could this night get more embarrassing?

He did, but his smirk remained. "You're ticklish."

"Angel, I swear to God, I  _ will _ go back to being your  _ hereditary enemy _ if I have to.

"No, you won't... you ticklish, amorous blogger who loves me."

Crowley glared. It was too much. It was just too much. He was going to explode. He needed them to switch gears. 

"We're on the other bed now," he said. 

"That we are."

"Next step. You're the pace-setter. Name it."

"You chose what we did last time."

"So it's your turn."

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. "I still think we could benefit a lot from getting off together."

That didn't sound like the penetrative sex he was hoping for, but his dick still twitched to attention. "In what way?"

Aziraphale leaned close to murmur, "Earlier, I really didn't get my fill of watching you stroke yourself for me."

"Goddamn," Crowley said, closing his eyes. 

"So I think," Aziraphale said, "I want to kiss you while we touch ourselves for a while, and see where it goes from there."

Crowley nodded. They'd switched gears.

And he still felt like combusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments = spoons
> 
> Spoons = life energy
> 
> Commenting = bringing me back from the brink of death
> 
> Wish I were exaggerating


	27. All this time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six thousand years of wanking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE SPOONS. I'm so glad I decided to just ask. Keeping this story going for y'all wonderful generous ineffables is one of the things anchoring me to the planet right now. 
> 
> A few warnings about today's chapter. 1) I've been nauseous the last few days so my kinkometer is off. It's hard to tell if what you're writing is actually sexy when you're fighting the urge to vom. 2) This chapter was just a stubborn mess besides. I had to rewrite large portions, reorient sequences of actions, figure out what the hell I was even trying to say a few times. The biggest misadventure involved the entire scene devolving into a fight, which I ended up cutting and saving for later. 
> 
> Here's hoping it all turned out okay.

Aziraphale enjoyed kissing Crowley, especially when the demon was completely naked like this. He found himself getting carried away, drunk on the simultaneous progress and self-denial of keeping his hands above Crowley's waist. In fact, he had yet to move them onto his own body. 

Crowley, who had never struck Aziraphale as one to enjoy self-denial, hadn't begun to touch himself, either. 

Aziraphale was starting to suspect he was trying to play chicken. 

So he gently took hold of Crowley's hand as it wandered down his side, and nudged it back toward him. "Would you please get us started, my dear?"

Crowley sighed as if in exasperation. "Remind me why I have to do this when I could be touching  _ you?" _

"You make a fair point, tempter," Aziraphale said, "but this is how I want you right now. The question is, how do you want me?"

Crowley's yellow eyes went wide. "Uhm, sorry?"

Aziraphale clarified. "Should I disrobe partially or entirely? Do you want me in a certain position in relation to you? Any requests at all?"

Crowley put a hand over his eyes. "Damn, Aziraphale. And you think you have confidence issues?"

Aziraphale thought then that he really should stop teasing him, when he knew Crowley could give as well as he got. It would all come back to him eventually. 

But then that thought turned him on even more. 

"Ask for something," he said. "I dare you."

Crowley couldn't turn down a challenge. "Fine. I-I want you naked."

So with a snap of his fingers, he was.

He kept his eyes locked on Crowley's. "Anything else?"  _ Come on, keep communicating with me, it's that easy. _

Crowley smirked, but there was something scared in his eyes. "Just serving yourself up on a silver platter, are you?"

Aziraphale considered a moment and then snapped. A very long platter appeared between him and the bed. "Gold suits me better, don't you think?"

Crowley laughed. "Put that away, it can't be comfortable."

"I'm making a point," Aziraphale said, but he snapped it away. 

"I get it, I get it. You'll do what I want, but on your terms."

"Well put. Just don't be afraid to ask, okay?"

"Fine." Crowley's hand was finally, slowly moving. "Come closer, then." 

Aziraphale was determined to draw out Crowley's kinky side eventually, but he appreciated the slow speed. He edged closer and kissed him.

Crowley started doing that slithery snake-in-water thing with his tongue, against Aziraphale's, and he melted. 

"Aziraphale,” Crowley growled as if frustrated. "Come on. You too."

Not an ideal request. Crowley could definitely do better. 

Aziraphase sighed. "I’ll take it into consideration."

"Oh, please, you're hard as hell."

"I'm an angel. It's my job to resist temptation." Aziraphale watched Crowley's hand quicken. There was a certain emphasis in the flick of his wrist he noted. 

"Since when?" Crowley grumbled. 

“I resisted  _ you  _ for six thousand years, so I’d say I’m quite talented, thank you.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Did you get talented at anything else during all that time you spent resisting me?”

“Many things, including sex with and without partners.”

Maybe he should hold back a bit on the banter, play into suggestion more, like Crowley did. 

But he didn't want to. As much as he wanted to figure out why Crowley was so reticent around him and fix it… the grumpy bashfulness was adorable. 

Crowley surprised him now, leaning close to whisper,  _ “Show me.” _ The words came out with a bit of a hiss that made Aziraphale tingle.

That was what he wanted to hear. Yes, a confident Crowley was more rewarding than a shy one. And it didn’t escape his notice that Crowley didn’t specify with or without a partner.

He reached for the lubricant bottle from earlier, still on the edge of the other bed. He popped the cap and offered it to Crowley, who held out his hand to accept, but it was shaking. Had Aziraphale been pushing him too hard, after all?

“Are you all right, my dear?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. This is just… intense.”

“Bad intense?”

“No. Not at all.”

That confirmed, Aziraphale poured lube into his own hand and set the bottle aside. 

He had a thought. “Say it again?” he asked Crowley.

Crowley froze with his hand on his cock. “I love you?”

Azirphale kept his smile restrained. “I love you too, but not that. The other thing. Ask me to show you.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “You liked that?”

Aziraphale finally began to slowly stroke himself. “Crowley, I’ve been prying you open like a goddamn oyster shell.”

Crowley chuckled, moving his own hand again. “Have you, now? Because I think I’m doing well, all things considered.”

“Yes, you’re doing beautifully opening up more emotionally, you really are. Now, show me that demonic bedroom confidence I’ve seen you show off every time you’ve ever flirted with someone in front of me.”

Crowley looked askance. “I would never.”

“Never try to make me jealous? You never failed, is what you never did."

Crowley’s grin sharpened, then faded into something frustrated. “It’s so easy with humans. Demons. Anyone else, really. They don’t  _ matter  _ to me like you do. I can do what I want.”

“And I’m telling you, you can with me, also.”

“Don’t say that,” Crowley grinned. “That’s dangerous. Especially when I’m supposed to be keeping my hands to myself.” 

Aziraphale found Crowley’s free hand on the bed. “Not entirely.”

Crowley squeezed and looked down at the hands, past them, to Aziraphale’s hand slowly brushing along his own cock. 

Crowley groaned, speeding the hand on his cock a bit. “God, Aziraphale, you’re beautiful.”

“It’s all for you.”

“Angel,” Crowley said, hips bucking a bit. “Six thousand years of this. It feels like I shouldn’t have to, now that we’re here, so why do I like it this much?”

“Personally,” Aziraphale said. “I like it because I like the idea of you  _ seeing. _ Seeing what you’ve been doing to me all this time. Seeing what I’ve always been like for you.”

“Shut up,” Crowley said. “Fuck, I want to kiss you, but if I kiss you, I can’t watch.”

“Watch, for now. Crowley, I was thinking about you the first time I ever did this. It was a bit clumsier, as you can imagine."

Crowley looked away, keening a bit.    
  


“I did this in the river in Egypt, one time after we ran into each other there. And remember that time we met in the Library of Alexandria, before it burned? I got off in the back courtyard, less than an hour after you left.”

“Me too,” Crowley blurted. “In Alexandria, that day, once I was back on the ship in the port.”

Aziraphale grinned. He was loosening up. “And I did this - this exact thing - after we ate oysters at Petronius's in Rome. Do you remember how I let you leave first and stayed at the table? I didn't want you to see what you were doing to me. By the time I got home, I was already so slick, dripping, just from having been near you…”

“Ngk.” Crowley’s legs were bending. He was curling in on himself a bit again. He couldn’t meet Aziraphale’s eye, but at least he was watching farther down.

Aziraphale gave his cock a break to trace at his nipples, down his chest and stomach, teasing himself. “The day I met you on a mission for Arthur, when i found out you were the Black Knight? I couldn’t stand how little of you I could see, under all that armor. I wanted to see more of you, wanted to agree to work with you if only just for that. I got off just fantasizing about seeing you in clothes that properly shaped you."

“Angel,” Crowley laughed. “You don’t have to do this, you know? Six thousand years of wanking, it’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“Not with you. I want you to know.”

Crowley’s shoulders rose. His hand sped to a fever pitch, and he crawled up onto his knees without breaking stride, letting go of Aziraphale’s hand in the process. But he was looking him dead in the eyes with those slit pupils in ovals of solid gold. “I got off, thinking about you, almost every damn day. Didn’t matter if I saw you or not."

Aziraphale rolled onto his back, rolling his nipples and stroking himself in tandem. “And you think I didn’t? I’m just hitting the highlights.”

“Fuck.” Crowley, on his knees and one hand now, kept looking up Aziraphale's body to his face and down again. “You mentioned the Blitz earlier? Saving your books? I had a whole fantasy of a version of events where I handed you the books, and you just jumped me, there in the middle of all the destruction. How messed up is that?”

“Not as messed up as how badly I wanted to touch you every time I checked on you, back when you slept a century away. I came so close to doing this right there in your room."

“Ngh! Fuck, angel, I didn’t know you - I need to -” He took his hand off his cock entirely, planting it on the bedspread. His length hung, gleaming and almost purple, beneath him. 

“Come here,” Aziraphale said, backing up to the pillows. Crowley crawled to him, and Aziraphale guided him into his lap. He gently took that precious, suffering cock in his hand, and lined it up with his own. 

“Help me?” he asked. His hand didn’t wrap all the way around both of them, and Crowley covered what he couldn’t. Their fingers overlapped.

Crowley’s eyes fluttered as they started to stroke. His pupils became triangles as his eyes rolled back in his head. His free hand clutched at the bedspread and then scrabbled at Aziraphale's shoulder. He couldn’t seem to help himself -is hips rocked, sliding their cocks together, producing extra bursts of delicious friction. 

Aziraphale's own free hand was clamped on Crowley's hip. He was losing coherent thought again now. He dimly recognized he was making noise, but those sounds didn't matter next to Crowley's. He was letting himself be more expressive… or maybe he was just too far gone to care. Aziraphale didn't know which to hope for.

He found himself craving even more intimacy. He caught Crowley's mouth in a kiss, moved his tongue inside, and still wanted more. He'd been wrong, they were going too slow, he needed penetration involved, he needed more Crowley, he would never get enough. 

"I'm - I'm close," Aziraphale admitted. "Would you like to - to slow -?"

Crowley's free hand moved from his shoulder to his jaw. He met his eyes. "Come."

_ Oh, Crowley. _

Aziraphale stopped holding back. His own hips bucked up into Crowley's, and as his pleasure mounted, he felt an instinctive, desperate urge to embrace him, but the hand on his jaw, the gaze piercing his, kept him steady. 

He knew his face was tense and slack at the same time, jaw working, eyes fighting to stay open and not close in the grips of bliss. But then Crowley's face crumpled too, all at once, and he keened out a sound like Aziraphale had never heard before. The handful of notes in that squeal were a melody better than any Mozart, and he wanted to play Crowley like a goddamn instrument. 

Crowley began to squirm and twitch before Aziraphale had reached his fever pitch. He released Crowley's cock, hand stuttering on his own, but Crowley got a determined look in his eye and his hand joined back in. 

At the peak, Aziraphale stopped breathing - and forgot he didn't need to breathe - so his head swum, and Crowley's face blurred, but not so much that Aziraphale couldn't see the devilish smirk growing across it. 

Crowley yanked Aziraphale's hand from his cock and kept going on his own. He kept Aziraphale trapped there, in the height of orgasm, until it forced his eyes closed and ripped a scream from his throat.

_ That mischievous little... _

He came down panting, gasping, weakly clutching at Crowley's hands.

"Whoa," Crowley murmured. "Are you okay? You… you stopped breathing? Why would you - ? Are you into that?"

Aziraphale coughed a bit. "Accident. Forgot I didn't need it. Might have found a new kink, though."

Crowley let go of his hands to clutch his shoulders and inspect his face in a desperate way that made Aziraphale's heart clench. "Shit, I wouldnt have gotten all intense like that if I'd realized, fuck, I could've discorporated you!"

Aziraphale finally gave into the urge to embrace him. "None of that, now. I'm fine. I was nowhere near discorporating. It was wonderful. You're wonderful."

After a long breath, Crowley relaxed into him. "Pot, kettle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now, if you want to read the Holy Mother of all Aziraphale/Crowley mutual masturbation scenes, check out A Kiss is Just a Kiss by juliet and Laura Shapiro.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424884  
> Literarion's podfic rendition on Spotify is effing majestic. https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048608!
> 
> ❤


	28. I'm yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, you villainous hellion. Whatever shall I do?"

Crowley buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck and breathed. Like Aziraphale hadn't been able to at all a minute ago. His guilt was sharp but easing slowly. Aziraphale had liked it - but that was just luck. Neither of them had meant for it to happen.

"I think we should have penetrative sex next," Aziraphale said. 

Okay, maybe Aziraphale really was fine. 

"Oh?" Crowley asked. "Now?"

"We can give ourselves a minute, but it's only 1 or 2 in the morning. I'd be up for it tonight."

_ As long as you don't forget you don't need sleep. _

Aziraphale leaned back. "But only if you want to."

“Um, chya. I mean, yes, I want to.”

Aziraphale chuckled. "Shortly, then."

He traced firm fingers down Crowley's back, and Crowley shivered and melted against him again. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley snorted. “For what?”

“For letting me show you. For asking me to show you. For trusting me enough to be more comfortable being yourself.”

_ What? _

Crowley drew back to scowl. “Of course I trust you. I’m more comfortable around you than anyone.”

Aziraphale's expression was moved, but there was a hint of something sad in it. “Oh, Crowley. Me, too. Do you remember what you said when you used the coupon yesterday? When I said I needed more of you?”

Crowley’s face heated. “Yeah. I said you could have all of me.”

Was Aziraphale analyzing that? Was he going to make Crowley admit that Aziraphale could do whatever he wanted with him? 

“You know you have all of me, too, right? I’m yours.”

Damn, he loved this angel. He smirked. “Even your wings?”

Aziraphale brought them out, pushing the pillows behind him from the bed. He rose onto his knees, which nudged Crowley from his lap.

Crowley traced light fingertips up Aziraphale’s hip. “What about this body of yours you’re insecure about? Can I have it?”

Aziraphale scooted aside on the bed and lay down, wings spread wide. “Yes. As a matter of fact, how did you find porn of people who look like me? That’s hardly mainstream.”

“It wasn’t difficult. Let’s discuss that later.” Crowley gently parted Aziraphale’s legs and situated himself between them. He moved with extreme caution to tuck his hand underneath Aziraphale’s balls, then his perineum, then sought out his opening. “Can I have this?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale gasped, pulling his knees up, and Crowley had never felt so gratified. 

Aziraphale said he was Crowley's, and who would Crowley be not to trust him about that? 

He massaged the rim gently and picked up Aziraphale's right leg to prop the knee over his shoulder, making Aziraphale gasp again. Crowley took in a view of the angel he'd never seen before, so precious and delicate and intimate, and his finger already involved. He couldn't believe he was touching Aziraphale like this. He shivered, feeling his cock rise to full attention.

"I could get used to this," Crowley said, beginning to gently pet along Aziraphale's velvety, redeeming cock. 

"To what, teasing me?"

"That, too." He magically lubed up his fingers and pressed in, to his first finger joint. He knew how this was done, how to lightly tickle in just the right way. Thirty seconds of this sensation, and almost everyone he'd ever done this with had become relaxed, receptive.

But he didn't want to think about them. He'd rather focus on the fact that Aziraphale was letting him do this to him, letting him into his body, and seemed excited about it. He was whimpering and squirming, but flashing him little smiles. 

Aziraphale loved him. He had to make this good. 

He slid his finger farther in as he felt Aziraphale's inner muscles begin to relax. He teased along his inner walls, rotating, pressing. Aziraphale seemed to be struggling not to writhe. 

And then his hips bucked off the bed and he was shuddering out a gasp. The cock under Crowley's lazily moving hand hardened in a rush. 

Crowley smiled. "Did I find it?"

"Yes. Oh, my dear. Oh, oh, Crowley…" He found Crowley's hand, pulled it away from his cock, held it fast. 

"Not about to come already, are you?" Crowley asked, teasing the reactive spot as lightly and slowly as he could. 

"No, just - I-I don't even know what to do with my hands right now."

Now, that was fucking cute. But also confusing. "Angel, you have experience with this. What have you done with other partners?"

"I don't remember," Aziraphale said. "I suppose I was able to relax them, but now they've been nearly tearing up the bedspread."

Crowley nearly whimpered, he was so bowled over. He forced himself to recover. "Here then, let's stroke you together. Just, if you come, don't forget you don't need to breathe."

He added a little more pressure as he rubbed his fingerpad against that sensitive spot. Aziraphale squeaked out a noise.

"This is so sensitive. I'd say yours is even more than usual. I like it. I feel like I've found a weakness."

"Oh, you villainous hellion," Aziraphale said, but he was smiling. "Whatever shall I do?"

Crowley ran through possible answers to that in his head. Dommy BDSM responses. He could pretend to be offended. When he finally picked one, he made sure to say it like an instruction. 

"You're gonna enjoy this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also morphed into an argument I had to cut. Argh. Apparently some storms are a-comin'....
> 
> Saturday is the very last prompt day! After that, I'm gonna keep going, but slow the pace to every 2 or 3 days. I'm gonna do my own thing for now, but I will seriously consider requests. 
> 
> But I've set up too many possible scenarios to really get stuck. 🍣❤🐍


	29. Whatever you like (anything you want)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "An old serpent's gotta be good for something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I couldn't get it done last night, but I didn't want to half-ass it.
> 
> Hopefully, it'll be worth the wait <3
> 
> Also, beware the POV switch.

Aziraphale had designed his corporation's prostate with sensitivity more similar to a clitoris.

He had forgotten to warn Crowley. He had forgotten about it entirely, so focused on the immensity of what was happening. 

Now, his veins surged with liquid fire, and Crowley commanding him to enjoy himself just made it hotter, and it also made him chuckle.

"I already am," he said through gritting teeth, squirming to get more of Crowley's pressing, teasing fingers. 

"Good, but we're not even at the best part yet."

The tips of Aziraphale's wings were fluttering and twitching in empty air on both sides of the bed. "Darling, I don't doubt that for a second. Oh, you're incredible, what are you even doing to me?"

Crowley sucked in a gasp and turned his head to kiss the inner side of Aziraphale's knee. And then bite it. 

Aziraphale adored that reaction and kept going. "It's like you have six thousand years of experience or something."

Crowley chuckled, and his breath whispered along Aziraphale's thigh. "An old serpent's gotta be good for something."

"I'm so glad you told me loved me - so glad I brought it up - I think it adds something - to know."

Crowley smirked. "Well. I do love you."

And then he was pumping his fingers in a gradually increasing speed. 

"I love y - ah! - you too. Oh, Crowley!"

The tiny seconds and fragments of seconds that Crowley's fingers were not on his prostate left him electrified with want, but he seemed to be done lingering there. 

He slowed, and Aziraphale whimpered, aching for more, but he felt a third finger press into him and didn't mind anymore. 

Because they were close now. One of the most delicate pieces of Crowley would be touching, firing up that oversensitive spot inside him. Aziraphale's stomach was all bubbles and Luna-moths and Crowley's fingers were progressing in and out, and then picking up speed.

"I'm ready," Aziraphale panted. "Please, I need you."

Crowley withdrew his fingers and began to move over him. "Then you'll have all of me." With a rustling sound, wings expanded behind him. 

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley in awe for a second, reverent. He looked his hands around the back of Crowley's neck and looked him in the eyes. For once, Crowley held his gaze. 

Crowley positioned himself, tucking the tip of his cock against Aziraphale's opening. Aziraphale gasped and fought not to squirm. 

"What about now?" Crowley murmured. "Would it be natural for me to fuck you now?"

"Yes," Aziraphale whispered. "Please."

Crowley kissed him, hard, almost clacking their teeth, and breached him. 

*

Crowley entered Aziraphale as slowly as he could possibly stand. He was mentally keeping a better grip on himself, he realized, but he wasn’t sure it would last.

And oh, that tightness embracing him, the heat of it, the trust Aziraphale was placing in him… and Aziraphale was right. Knowing this was an act of love made it even more intense. 

He knew he was close to Aziraphale’s prostate when, sure enough, the angel tensed and squeaked out his name. He nudged in a bit deeper, then began to slowly work in and out. The friction had him losing his grip on his sanity now. 

Once Aziraphale was taking him in with ease, Crowley adjusted his angle to hit that lovely spot inside Aziraphale just so.

Aziraphale cried out, a guttural, passionate sound. 

Crowley stopped. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t stop,” Aziraphale said. “I promise you, I am experiencing nothing less than bliss.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered. He moved his hands so his wrists were against Aziraphale’s sides and lowered his body so they were flush. He felt Aziraphale's hardness pressing into his belly, and those hands sliding down his shoulders to feel along his wings.

Tight against Aziraphale, Crowley moved, managing to still keep an angle thrusting against Aziraphale's prostate. The angel's shuddering breath in his ear, and those reactive hands in his feathers, the raw closeness of this…

"Aziraphale." Crowley nuzzled Aziraphale’s neck and nipped the junction between his neck and shoulder, and the way Aziraphale keened his name pierced through his soul.

Very abruptly, he made a decision.

"Aziraphale," he whispered. "I would do anything for you. With you. Whatever you like, anything you want, please, just tell me and it's yours."

Aziraphale's breath stuttered with a laugh in his ear. "You're enjoying this, too, I presume?"

Crowley rose up enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes. "I mean it. Ask me when this… is over."

"Oh, Crowley… Either way, I just… I love you."

The words went through Crowley like a fresh bolt of lightning.

"I love you too. I meant it." His mind worked rapidly but effortlessly to concoct a way to prove it, and he performed a quick miracle. "I'll prove it. Here. Kiss me."

He lowered his open mouth to Aziraphale's and dipped his tongue inside. Aziraphale's met it, and then the angel was sucking on it lightly. 

The kiss broke. Aziraphale looked happy but baffled. "Why does your mouth… taste like chocolate?"

Dark chocolate of his favorite brand, to be exact. 

"All of me tastes like chocolate."

Aziraphale inhaled and pulled Crowley down to lick his neck. A suck, a bite, a swirl of the tongue, all growing less and less hesitant, all raising the heat and the tension in so many parts of Crowley, he couldn't identify them all. Was it possible for every bit of him to be stimulated, aroused, down to his bones?

His hips stuttered. He realized he was moving faster than he'd meant to, and slowed again.

Once Aziraphale had tasted a large portion of Crowley's neck and shoulder, his head fell back to the pillow.

"Anything I want?"

"Anything," Crowley said. Any embarrassment was gone now, replaced with a desperate need to show Aziraphale how much he meant to him. This was only a fragment, but it would have to do. 

"Then, I'd like you to… change back. I like... your taste even… better."

_God, it's like he really loves me._

Crowley acquiesced with a nod, and Aziraphale licked along Crowley's collarbone. 

"Oh," Aziraphale murmured against his skin, "and I'm not to be… outdone."

Something red drifted into Crowley's vision, landing on the pillow. A rose petal. More followed, and Crowley realized they were falling in a shower from the ceiling, landing lightly on his back and legs, tangling in his feathers, thornless and soft. 

Crowley wanted to kiss Aziraphale, but he had to wait, because Aziraphale's mouth was busy biting and sucking and licking even more of his shoulders and neck than he had when he tasted like chocolate. 

So he reacted freely to Aziraphale's administrations. He called his name, let out his sounds, repeated "I love you" again and again.

Until Aziraphale broke away from him abruptly. "I'm going to come."

"Untouched?"

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. "I'd rather not, actually. Touch me?"

Crowley lifted up to free Aziraphale's cock and attended to it as quickly as he could, smearing precum down from the head, and Aziraphale was already arching. Crowley made sure he was still hitting his mark, watched Aziraphale's hands scrabbling in the petal-strewn blankets, heard his cry of relief.

Pride and bliss swelled in him. He slowed down, but Aziraphale found his hand and beckoned him back down against him.

"Stop holding back," he whispered. "Come inside me. Please."

So Crowley held tight to him and ramped up his pace to something that felt natural, something that conveyed how he was feeling about all of this. Aziraphale kept reassuring hands moving in his hair, his back, his feathers. 

When he came, it was a powerful but gentle thing. Liquid pleasure surged through him without seeming to stretch him too thin. He could lose his mind in the bliss of it without coming anywhere near passing out. 

Instead of draining him, it left him feeling renewed, like he could see everything a little clearer. 

He withdrew, put his wings away, and sat back on his knees. He miracled the mess away while Aziraphale tucked away his wings and moved over to the side of the bed. 

Crowley laid beside him, propped up on his arm. He found himself chewing his swollen lower lip and fidgeting restlessly.

“How was it?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley shook his head. “Not even gonna try. Words aren’t good enough.”

“Do you mean that it’s inef - “

“Stop it,” Crowley interrupted with a grin and a stern finger shake. “No. Even that word is not good enough.”

“It’s good enough for the Great Plan and the way She works in general, but not for sex with me?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley laughed. “Obviously.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Your irreverence astounds.”

Crowley focused on Aziraphale and smirked. “Oh, I have plenty of reverence.”

Aziraphale slowly turned bright red. It was the best blush Crowley had seen yet. 

When he felt like being merciful and focusing on something else, Crowley drummed his fingers on the bed. “I feel strangely energized.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Orgasms can do that sometimes.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m not gonna put words to that, either. But if you’re asking about my energy level, I could go again in a minute.”

“I love that idea, but… I have another one. I think we should check out.”

“Out of the hotel? It’s three in the morning!”

“Perfect for what I want to do.” He miracled a slip of paper from his jeans pocket in the bathroom and handed it to Aziraphale. 

_One instance of assistance with a shenanigan._

Aziraphale read it and narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Not sure yet. But I say we go out into the world and find some trouble.”

“I’m not exactly into the night scene, Crowley.”

Crowley grinned. “You’ll be into this. Trust me.”

Aziraphale sighed and smirked at him. “I guess we better get dressed, then.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends "season one" 
> 
> Yup, this is going to continue, but every 2 or 3 days instead of daily. Buuuut I think I'm going to start another fic, one with very small posts, which I can update on the off days. Yup, you guessed it, I'm gonna fic-ify Crowley's blog. The first chapter/post of Bowtie-Wearing Book-Hoarding Beautiful Bastard Angel should be up tomorrow. 
> 
> Also, please come say hi to me on Twitter and Tumblr. I'm trying to actually keep up with them, and I need people to keep me honest.  
> https://twitter.com/CourtneyDiles  
> https://courtneydileshenderson.tumblr.com/
> 
> It's a little risky to associate my actual name with this, I suppose, but I'm a mental health advocate and a romance author, so I'm used to it.
> 
> <3


	30. Angel with a squirt gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm an angel with a SQUIRTgun  
> Fighting 'til the war's won  
> I don't care if heaven won't take me back  
> I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe  
> Don't you know you're everything I have?
> 
> ~Angel with a Shotgun by The Cab  
> I mean, sort of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a while and it doesn't completely fit in tonally, but it was the best I could do with this amount of time. If I plan better, maybe I can make their vigilante interferences a more comedic and Vash-the-Stampede-ish.
> 
> Also, Bowtie-Wearing Book-Hoarding Beautiful Bastard Angel is up. https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978837
> 
> Any day I can't update this, I hope to update that instead. Quick little posts.

The February London air was frigid, and it was snowing lightly.

Aziraphale put an arm around Crowley's shoulders, the shoulders that had tasted of chocolate just minutes ago. "Warm enough, dear?"

"Nothing a small frivolous miracle can't handle." But he put an arm around Aziraphale's waist. 

Crowley veered them to turn down a side street, the opposite direction of the Bentley. 

"Crowley, dear, what is going on?"

Crowley shrugged. "I suppose I should tell you now, in case you're really not ready. You know how I can tell what people are paying attention to?"

"Yes?" Aziraphale asked, wondering where this was going.

"It only spans a couple blocks, and it takes some focus, but I can sense people's reactions to things. I can get an idea of good things and bad things that are happening."

Interesting. Such a skill would have come in just as handy for an angel. He found himself a bit jealous. "What's your point?"

"My point is," Crowley said, "we don't have to follow sirens."

Oh.

_Oh._

Crowley grinned. "Ready to play guardian angel?"

Not _avenging angel._ Not _superhero._

_Guardian angel._ Something he'd wished to be more of than Heaven would ever let him. 

He took a breath. "Yes. Please."

Crowley didn't snicker, just tightened his arm. "I'll help you find trouble, and then the stage is yours unless it gets complicated. I doubt you'll need any help."

Aziraphale nodded. "I believe most situations can be resolved with a single miracle."

It took them almost an hour of exploring shadier parts of London to find trouble. Aziraphale expected to come across a stalker, a domestic dispute, something more common. 

He did not expect Crowley to say, "A shop around the corner is getting robbed. There seems to be a weapon involved."

He blinked, taking a second to wonder how Crowley's first detection was something so intense.

As they got closer, he tapped into the emotional states of the nearby humans. He couldn't access the kind of scope and detail Crowley could, but he sensed the adrenaline and terror.

Such emotions had his empathy, but they weren’t contagious to him.

Crowley let go of his hand and fell a step behind him as they walked up to the store. 

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Crowley said.  
  


“It’s probably just a knife. I can turn it into plastic.”

“Probably,” Crowley said. “You know, maybe this was a reckless idea.”

Aziraphale smirked. “Come now, my guardian demon. Let’s… adjust.”

Aziraphale opened the shop door. A bell jingled. A man was facing the other way, but he whirled around to aim at them.

Aim a gun, to be precise. 

Instantly, Aziraphale altered the pistol's internal mechanisms to make it harmless. 

The gunman, he noticed, had worn a beanie and cheap sunglasses, but nothing covering the lower part of his face. He was trembling. Perhaps he was new to the criminal scene.

Perhaps...

"Don’t move," he growled at Aziraphale and Crowley. 

Aziraphale checked the shop. Two customers were hiding behind shelves, and the gunman was between Aziraphale and the attendant, so the attendant couldn't see what was about to happen. Crowley was behind Aziraphale, safe.

Aziraphale raised his hands defensively but took a step forward. 

Apparently, that was enough to fray what was left of the frazzled gunman’s nerves. 

A stream of water spewed weakly from the gun onto the floor between them. 

"What?" The gunman fired once again, twice. Just water. 

"Aziraphale, let's go," Crowley hissed. 

"One moment," Aziraphale whispered. "I don't think you"ve ever seen me do this before.” 

"They sold me a fucking fake." The gunman threw the gun aside and marched toward them. 

Aziraphale held up one hand and tapped into the angelic power he normally reserved for defending his bookshop. It would offer the man some clarity, an ability to see what he really wanted to be doing, because it obviously wasn't this. 

The man stopped. Aziraphale lifted his spiritual fog, illuminating the path that would eventually bring him peace again.

"Shit!" the man said. "What am I doing, I - how are you doing this?" he asked Aziraphale. 

"Hmm?" Aziraphale said. "You're clearly distressed, my dear boy. Why don't you go see if the authorities can help you?"

"Sir?" The cashier pushed a small duffel bag across the counter. 

The gunman waved her off and stumbled toward the door. Aziraphale and Crowley stepped aside to let him pass. 

“Well, then.” Aziraphale shook a handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to delicately pick up the gun and set it on the counter where it wouldn’t get lost.

“We’re talking about this later,” Crowley said. “That was not the plan.”

“Young miss, would you like any help filing a police report?”

Crowley made an indignant noise. “I thought be in and out of here,” he hissed. 

“Um, yes, please stay,” the girl said. Tears were streaming from her pretty green eyes. “I-I don’t understand why he left without the money. How did you do that?”

“‘S what I’d like to know,” Crowley murmured.

Aziraphale brushed him off. “I didn’t do anything. Perhaps he had a crisis of conscience. Are the police already on their way?”

“Yes, there’s an emergency button under the counter.”

He continued to soothe the poor girl’s nerves while Crowley folded his arms and scowled and tutted and nearly got himself mistaken for the thief himself when the police arrived. 

***

When they finally left, the sun was rising. Aziraphale was mentally exhausted from the blessing he’d bestowed upon the gunman, so Crowley miracled them back to the bookshop, upstairs, by the bed.

“What were you thinking?” Crowley asked, pushing Aziraphale by the shoulders until he sat on the bed. “Did you even know for sure you could still do that type of blessing, since Heaven cut you off?”

“It worked,” Aziraphale sighed. “You know, I’ve never tested how frequently I can do that.”

“Well, don’t,” Crowley said, lowering himself to unlace Aziraphale’s left shoe. “You were barely coherent enough to talk to the police just now. I don’t like seeing you out of sorts. And I did not like seeing you get shot at. I know you can handle yourself, and it was just water, but I did not like it."

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley. “What are you doing?”

“Undressing you.” Crowley unlaced the other shoe.

“My dear, I could manage if you really need it, but -”

Crowley snapped, and Aziraphale was in cotton pajamas again. “I’m getting you comfortable, angel. No, I’m not planning to fuck you right now. Unless you want me to, I guess. Just, for fuck's sake, you scared the shit out of me.”

Aziraphale softened. “Did you really not know I could do that?”

“No,” Crowley said, pulling back the covers and beckoning to Aziraphale. “I thought that kind of blessing was reserved for Gabriel and Michael’s station. Wait.” He narrowed his eyes. “What rank principality are you? Were you?”

“The highest,” Aziraphale said. “You didn’t know?”

“Of course not,” Crowley growled. “I was surprised they sent a principality to Earth to begin with, let alone one meant to command legions. Now, bedtime for stubborn angels.”

Aziraphale finally moved and let Crowley tuck him in. “What about you? I never asked how the rankings worked amongst the demons. I assumed you were my equivalent. Was I wrong?”

“Yeah,” Crowley grumbled. “You were, what, four ranks down from Her? I was four ranks down from Lucifer, so you’re a rank higher, in terms of power.”

Aziraphale frowned. “But when it comes to miracles, you’ve always been more powerful than I am. You can stop time, create small dimensions.”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Crowley said. “Or I’ll make you, like you did to me the one time.”

“You mean the time after you came so hard, you blacked out?”

“For a second,” Crowley seethed. “Go to sleep. You’ll feel better sooner, if you do.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. “I do wonder why you’re so powerful, though, if I’m a rank above you.”

“I was a powerful angel, is all,” Crowley muttered. “Some of it got left behind.”

“What?” Aziraphale found himself wide awake. “You remember?”

Crowley scowled. “Of course we do. Falling wouldn’t be much of a loss if we couldn’t remember what we lost. Most poor fools just have the decency not to _bring it up.”_ But he was smiling. 

“What rank were you, then?”

“I was the rank of _go to sleep.”_

Aziraphale edged closer. “Come on. I know everything else about you, seriously, everything.”

Crowley smirked. “That’s what you think.”

“Tell me.” Aziraphale poked him gently, earning a twitch. 

“No,” Crowley said, squirming as Aziraphale increased his onslaught. “Not now! You need rest, not another shock, so just chill out, okay? Stop it!”

The last two words were threaded with a giggle so startlingly adorable, Aziraphale stopped. That was absolutely precious, and he would not push his luck.

“Thank you,” Crowley grumbled. “How about this? I promise I will tell you everything you want to know about me… eventually.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll sleep if you come here and cuddle me better.”

Crowley scooched in and put an arm around him. “Such high maintenance.”

“I know, I’m such an imposition.”

“You really are.” 

They drifted off to sleep.


	31. The adorable and the insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for shit to get real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for another less lighthearted chapter. I'll balance it out. Promise.

When Crowley woke up the next morning - in bed with Aziraphale, holy shit, he still could not believe his luck - Aziraphale was sitting up reading. He noticed Crowley waking up and reached to comb lazy fingers through his hair. “Good morning.”

“Is it morning?” he asked. 

“It’s about five in the morning. You slept twenty-two hours.”

Crowley stretched. “How are you feeling?"

“All juiced back up,” Aziraphale said cheerily. He closed his book and wiggled down so his head was on the pillow. “All back in working order.”

Crowley braved a smile. “What do you suppose we do all this new energy?”

“Oh, all kinds of things,” Aziraphale said. “But take a minute to wake up. Why don’t you tell me one of these secrets you mentioned yesterday? Perhaps your position as an angel?”

He laughed. “Perhaps something else?”

“Perhaps not?”

Crowley needed to distract him. There were so many things he had barely admitted to himself, so many secrets he hadn’t even shared with Aziraphale. He picked something relatively safe. “My favorite color isn't black."

He was rewarded with shock. "Wait, what? But it's all you wear!"

Crowley shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "Suits me."

"Then what is it?"

Deep breath. "Blue."

"Really? What shade?"

_Your eyes._ Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a safe topic. "Er, those panties I wore the other night. That shade."

And now he was turning bright red again at the memory. Had Aziraphale really put his mouth on him _through_ them? Crowley’s brain was melting.

"Hmmm,” Aziraphale said. “It's hard to imagine you dressing in such a light color."

"Like I said, it wouldn't suit me."

Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder."I didn't say that. Those panties suited you gorgeously." 

Crowley snorted and reached for some defensive sarcasm. "Any underclothes suit me gorgeously, it comes with the territory of being gorgeous."

"I don't doubt you," Aziraphale said, running a hand down Crowley's belly. "Let's find out what you're wearing now, shall we?" That hand hooked over the half-formed erection underneath his jeans. 

Crowley hadn't been fully expecting that and bucked into the touch. "None," he said, barely clinging to the thread of conversation. "I'm not -"

"Why do I suspect that's not uncommon for you?"

_Because I'm a massive pervert and you know it now._ "I-I don't know."

Aziraphale just hummed and tightened his hand. "Well, and those jeans leave little to the imagination. All this time, were you hoping I would notice and it would drive me crazy?”

"Ngk." God - Satan - everyone in between - he loved this new side of his angel. Aziraphale was adjusting so fast. Why couldn't Crowley? "A little, yeah.”

“Temptation accomplished.” Aziraphale undid the button of his jeans, then inhaled sharply, tilting his head back. “I have always wanted to do this.”

“Do what?” Crowley said, a little lost. Aziraphale was unzipping him, after all. 

“To get into your maddeningly tight trousers, my love.” His hand eased down onto Crowley's bare cock, the tight fabric keeping the pressure firm.

"Fuck." Crowley reached for Aziraphale's shoulder, but his hand was shaking so hard, it was practically spasming. 

Aziraphale's hand withdrew to cover it. His face went dark. "Let's press pause."

_Shit._

"Or let's not?"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said. "Why are you shaking so badly? You were the other night, too. Maybe I shouldn't be pushing you like this."

"You're not pushing me," Crowley growled, just wanting Aziraphale to go back to touching him.

"Then why? I don't understand. If you're okay, why the fear?"

This wasn’t pressing pause. This was pressing stop. Because if he dug into this, Aziraphale and/or Crowley himself would end up with bad feelings.

There wasn’t a lot of chance he could prevent that now, but he had to try. He had to lighten it, get Aziraphale to brush it off. 

But he couldn’t lie, either.

"It's… just nerves, okay?”

“And people only get nervous when they’re scared of something. Take stage fright, for example. The fear is messing up in front of a crowd. What’s got you scared?”

“I’m. Not. Scared,” Crowley said through gritted teeth. 

“Is it me?” Aziraphale said softly. “I know I broke your trust back in August, before… before we stopped it. Is there more rebuilding we need to do?”

“Of course not,” Crowley snapped. “Would I sleep with you if I didn’t trust you?”

But something about Aziraphale’s question resonated in him. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t far from it.

“Would you?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley did not feel like being this vulnerable this early in the morning, but he would do anything for Aziraphale. “Fine. Fine. It’s me I don’t trust, okay? I would rather die than do anything to throw you off about all of this.”

“Throw me off?"

“You know. Break a rule, push a boundary, do anything that you could take as a rejection, or in any way, shape, or form fuck this up.”

“You think I’m going to break the whole thing off if you make one little mistake?”

Aziraphale wasn't getting it. “That's not it."

“Relax, Crowley. If you haven’t _thrown me off_ in six thousand years, you’re not going to throw me off now.”

An echo of the pre-a-few-days-ago angst reared up in him. “But I did throw you off. Time and time again. It’s what I do.”

Aziraphale smoothed a hand over his shoulder. “Look here. Listen to me. I’ll say it as many times as it takes. The only reason I ever rejected you was because I feared what Heaven and Hell would do. I know I hurt you at the bandstand, but I couldn’t keep you around when I was trying to get the attention of the Metatron and God herself. And I couldn’t give up. I’m sorry I ever let you think I didn’t care. Truly.”

Crowley closed his eyes. They were beautiful words, but they skimmed over the truth, the guilt he couldn’t hold in anymore.

“We’re on our own side now,” Aziraphale continued. “You’re not going to throw me off. Even if you do upset me, we’ll deal with it and get past it. Okay?”

Time for shit to get real.

“Aziraphale,” he said evenly. “I hear you. I do. But you were right to reject me at the bandstand. And for a completely different reason. I was pressuring you into murdering a child.”

Aziraphale’s expression veered toward an eye-roll, a scoff, but he seemed to catch himself. Recognition lit in his eyes. 

“To save the world,” he argued. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Crowley ground out. “I was pressuring you into _murdering_ a _child_. Worse than that, I succeeded. If it hadn’t been for Tracy, you would have… because I…”

“But Tracy was there. She stopped me. She bought us enough time to see Adam was worth supporting.”

“The damage was done,” Crowley hissed, even as he realized he didn’t know how Aziraphale really felt about it. He could only know how _he_ felt about it. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, holding him by the shoulder. “Look at me. I’m okay. I’m not damaged.”

“You could have fallen,” Crowley said, his voice sounding distant even to himself. “Adam was innocent. If Tracy hadn’t stopped you, you would have murdered an innocent child. You would have fallen.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer. “Crowley, I didn’t. I’m right here.”

Crowley couldn’t bring himself to embrace Aziraphale back. He was limp, hollow. “Because of me. I didn’t mean to. I never would have thought that killing the Antichrist could make you fall, but it would have. It would have. All these millennia, there were things that kept us apart, but I never worried that being with me would make you fall. What if I’m wrong about this, too?”

“Crowley, if I fall for loving you, it will only mean we’ll have to find a way to make sure Hell still leaves us alone. That is the only thing it would mean. I will never feel guilty for loving you.”

Crowley came back to life, but only for an instant. “You would have felt guilty if Tracy hadn’t stopped you, though.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes. I suppose I would have. But in the end, it was my decision, not yours, Crowley. You are not responsible for my choices.”

Crowley snorted. “I recall actually yelling at you to shoot him.”

“Still my choice.”

Crowley was silent. Aziraphale didn’t get it. He didn’t see how Crowley could be a poison in his life. In a way, Crowley had reacted in horror when Aziraphale said he loved him, because if he, Crowley, were a pivot point around which Aziraphale’s world rotated, like Aziraphale was for him…

He was doomed. 

Crowley wanted this, wanted to be with him, wanted to love him, more than anything, but...

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he looked up. He was relieved he wasn’t crying. At least there was that. In a way he felt too hollow to cry. Maybe that was worse. 

“You’re insecure,” Aziraphale said simply.

“No shit,” Crowley said, looking away again.

“I’m seeing you a little clearer than I ever have before. Thank you.”

Crowley cringed. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. It means you do trust me. And I’m going to be worthy of that trust, okay? We’re going to work on this. We’re going to get your self-esteem up, even if it takes twelve more millennia. All this bravado you put on sometimes? By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to mean it.”

Crowley laughed. Because it was preposterous, and because it was beautiful, and because Aziraphale was so far beyond worth loving. Crowley thought it was probably the only good thing he’d ever done.

So he tucked his head against Aziraphale and finally held him back. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's my honest theory behind flustered Crowley. I've been veering them away from hashing this out for chapters on end. 
> 
> Next chapter will need some extra laughter, I think.


	32. Blessed Rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Any pain?"
> 
> "No."
> 
> "Do you want there to be?" 
> 
> A smile. "Not this time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I got so stuck on this. Many thanks to FavouredGraceSaunteredVaguelyDownwards for helping me break the block. And thank you to the rest of you who provided suggestions.
> 
> Hopefully the pace will pick back up this week.

Aziraphale held Crowley tightly, protectively, wishing he could simply put himself between Crowley and all of his insecurities. How to make good on the promise he’d just made? Love could go a long way toward healing insecurities, but a lot of the work would be Crowley’s. Crowley had made it clear he didn’t believe he could be forgiven by Heaven, but that didn’t mean he could never feel redeemed in his own eyes.

Aziraphale would be lying if he said that the Adam situation hadn’t messed with him. Having the one he loved pressure him toward doing something so dark had hurt. Of course it had. But it was Crowley, and the world had been at stake, thousands of human lives, not to mention their own lives as they knew them, their ability to be together... Aziraphale had forgiven it without a thought. 

Had he forgiven himself for what he’d almost done? Not quite. That would take more time. But that was his burden to bear, not Crowley’s. He didn’t know if letting Crowley in on that process would sharpen the guilt or help him feel trusted and redeemed. 

Crowley hadn’t cried. Still wasn’t crying. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

An idea finally came to him. 

"Hey," Aziraphale said. "Remember what you said the other night at the Ritz, about being okay with anything I want to do with you?"

"Uhh." Crowley audibly gulped. "Yeah. I did mean it."

Aziraphale couldn’t suppress his grin. "That's rather submissive of you, for a switch."

Crowley finally looked up and offered a small smirk. "Oh, I can dom. It just might be a little different with you."

"I want to see that, eventually," Aziraphale said. "But right now, I'm wondering if tying you up might be a helpful idea."

"Uhh," Crowley said again, no longer making eye contact. 

Aziraphale ran a finger along Crowley's jaw. "I think the first thing we need to get through your head is that I choose this. You. So perhaps a situation in which I have all the agency might be fruitful."

Crowley slowly nodded. "We can try that."

"Plus," Aziraphale said, "there's a fantasy of mine that might work better with you kept still."

"Fantasy?" Crowley echoed. 

"You'll see. Do you have a safeword in mind, my love?"

Crowley was bright pink. "Um, you pick."

"How about Eden?"

"Sure."

Aziraphale climbed out of the bed. "Lovely. Now, lie down, would you? Spread eagle."

Crowley sat up. "We're doing this now?"

"Would you like to?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I want to." He scooted into the middle of the bed and laid out spread eagle as instructed. His face was closer to crimson now.

"Perfect. Now, here's a question. When humans tie each other up, they don't have miracles at their disposal. They're actually stuck. If I used blessed rope, you could have that experience. Your miracles would have no influence over it. Which would you like?"

Crowley inhaled. "Bless it."

"Was that an exclamation or a request?"

"Request. Will it hurt?"

Aziraphale let his expression grow serious. "If it does, tell me, and I'll adjust the blessing."

"What if I don't want you to?"

He stroked Crowley’s red face with a finger. "Tell me anyway. Communicate with me. Trust me."

"Okay."

Aziraphale toyed with the hem of Crowley's shirt. "Would you like to be clothed?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"May I miracle them away?"

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale put a warning hand on Crowley's rib cage, and his clothing vanished, taking Aziraphale's breath away even though he was expecting it, was now somewhat familiar with Crowley's bare body. To be able to say that, to do this with him, to be trusted, to be free, both of them, free, free to express this…

He slipped his hand from Crowley's side, earning a ticklish wiggle that he ignored, pretending he'd done it on accident, hadn't noticed. 

He materialized a length of lightly blessed silk rope and touched it to Crowley's hand. "Any pain?"

"No."

"Do you want there to be?" 

A smile. "Not this time."

"Ready?" 

A nod. So timid. How to coax him out of his shell? Would that even suit, when he was meant to be feeling submissive?

Sure, it would. Aziraphale wanted Crowley relaxed, wanted him to feel like himself. And Crowley's self was often talkative.

He finished tying Crowley's left wrist to the bedpost. "There. Try to miracle free."

Crowley seemed to focus and gave his wrist a light tug. "Can't."

"And how do you feel about that?"

A scoff. "Come on, don't ask me that."

"Why not?"

A sigh. "I'm feeling a million things about it, of course. A whole spectrum between electrically excited and just… relieved. Safe."

_ Oh, my sweet demon.  _

"Let's raise all of that a few notches, shall we?"

He walked around the bed to tie Crowley's other wrist. He felt it in his hands for a moment, the weight of it, the smooth skin, the pliant way it bent at his touch, not simply, but with enough resistance to confirm Crowley was present in this moment. 

His heart swelled as he affixed the rope to the bedpost. 

"I might not've thought this through," Crowley said. 

"Oh?" Aziraphale asked, unsure whether he was being playful or serious. 

Crowley grinned at him. "I cant touch you."

"Then I'll have to touch you plenty to make up for it. But not yet. Test that one."

He tugged. "It's fine."

"Not too tight? Are you comfortable?"

An eye-roll. "Yes, Aziraphale, I'm fine. More than fine."

“Well, then.” Aziraphale moved the bedclothes down to the end of the bed where Crowley could not access them whatsoever. “I’m going to fulfill my fantasy.”

“What is that?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale brought up an armchair to the side of the bed and sat down. Then he miracled his copy of  _ Forty Love Sonnets and a Song of Despair _ from downstairs.

“Are you going to _read_ to me?” Crowley asked incredulously. 

“Sonnet XI,” Aziraphale announced, “by Pablo Neruda.”


	33. Liquid measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, Crowley, every time I manage to make you laugh, I get so proud of myself, and so happy you’re laughing, and I just want to kiss you and swallow it.”

“Neruda?” Crowley asked. “Why is that name familiar? I recognize it, he’s a poet, right?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve actually wondered if you might have met him. He lived in Chile, died in the 70s.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve just heard of him.” The obvious hit Crowley like lightning. “Oh, shit, of course… He does erotic poetry, right? I researched it a bit after you mentioned it at the Ritz that time.”

“You did?” Aziraphale asked. “I suppose that’s not surprising. Yes, this is erotica.” 

Excitement twisted and curled in Crowley’s gut. Aziraphale wasn’t just poking fun at him. This was an actual fantasy. “So this isn’t just something you want me to hear. This is going to be…”

“Part of the foreplay, yes.” 

“Fuck,” Crowley groaned, wrists reflexively straining at the ropes. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be torture?”

“The loveliest kind,” Aziraphale said. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, although he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

“ _ I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair _ ,” Aziraphale read.

Crowley electrified. His already half-attentive cock swelled further against his thigh.

Aziraphale looked up. “I love this line. I craved your mouth for so long. Your voice, when we were apart. Your hair. I watched for it everywhere, you know? For red hair like yours, in every crowd.”

“Nguh,” Crowley said. “You’ve gotta be kidding. I watched for you everywhere too. Every time I thought I was about to start forgetting what your voice sounded like, I started looking for you.”

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale said. “Well, those days are over now. I don’t intend to let you out of my sight for long at any time in the future.”

The air felt punched out of him. “Me, neither.”

“Good.” Aziraphale turned back to the book. “ _ Silent and starving, I prowl the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day, I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. _ ”

_ Liquid measure. _ Crowley knew he didn’t walk normally, and at times it made him feel sexy, and at times he was insecure about it. Now he knew how Aziraphale felt. 

Aziraphale looked up again. “I don’t know what it’s like to starve or to be sleep deprived, but I know what it’s like to long for you. The world does feel silent - I feel silent - when you’re not around. You’re the only person I can really be myself around, Crowley. And again… I was always, always, watching for you. Sometimes looking for you.”

_ Goddamn. _ Crowley was almost fully hard, dick twitching. “Aziraphale, I want to touch you. I’m not as good as you are with words, I need to show you.” 

“I’m not done, my love,” Aziraphale said, turning back to the book. “ _ I hunger for your sleek laugh. _ Oh, Crowley, every time I manage to make you laugh, I get so proud of myself, and so happy you’re laughing, and I just want to kiss you and swallow it.”

_ Sweet Satan, fuck. _ “If I laugh now, will you come over here?” Crowley tried to make it a temptation, but it came out raw and desperate. 

Aziraphale smiled and turned back to the book. “ _ Your hands the color of a savage harvest.  _ Now, I’m not sure what color that would be, but your hands, Crowley, they’re magic. They’re therapeutic, they’re a better heaven than Heaven ever was.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley repeated. “Please untie me.”

“Is that what you really want?” Aziraphale asked. “You didn’t say Eden.”

Crowley just whined. This was torture, but it was also gorgeous, and he didn’t actually want it to stop.

After a long moment, Aziraphale read again. “ _ Hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails.  _ You know, this line has always made me think of finger-sucking, but it occurs to me… Now that I know the way your nails dig into my skin, I want so much more of it.”

“Fuck,” Crowley said, squirming. His legs bent, one at a time, and flattened again, seeking motion, friction, anything. “Okay, yeah, you were right to tie me up, because I’d be jumping you by now…”

Aziraphale moved from the armchair to the edge of the bed and laid the book on his knee. With his free hand, he reached for Crowley’s cock and closed his fingers around it. Crowley gasped in relief and wonder. Aziraphale moved his hand. “ _ I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. _ ” 

As Aziraphale’s hand slowly traced down him, Crowley fought the urge to buck, to beg for more friction, for more, more. But this was a fantasy of Aziraphale’s, this slow progression of poetry, and Crowley couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying it. 

“ _ I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body _ .” Aziraphale looked Crowley in the eyes. “This line could mean a lot of different things. It could mean I want to absorb your body heat, it could mean I want to kiss you in a way that creates a full-body experience, it could mean I want to lick into your mouth, or into your vulva, if you manifested one. The sunbeam could mean arousal, and it could mean how much I want to experience that part of you. Or, taken quite literally, it could mean how much I want to consume something warm that looks like it’s flaring up in you now…” He found some precum on the head of Crowley’s cock and smeared it in a small circle.

Crowley whimpered. The ropes tightened around his wrists as he instinctively pulled at them. Tears were pricking his eyes, and he didn’t know if he was just that  _ moved  _ or just that  _ frustrated _ . “Shit, fuck, there isn’t even a curse word for this. Aziraphale, please, just, please…”

The slow, steady movements of that hand on him. “Please what, my love?”

“More,” Crowley begged, managing only a flicker of eye contact. 

Aziraphale mercifully closed the book and set it on the armchair. Crowley gasped with relief, but Aziraphale used the free hand to trace swirls along his hipbone. He didn’t pick up his pace. 

“Do you recall,” he said after a while, “the first time we talked about The Adjustment? A couple weeks ago.”

Crowley forced his brain to remember. “Yeah, you’d been acting strange all day.”

Aziraphale’s fingertip continued to move in snaking patterns down Crowley’s leg while his other hand slowly stroked. “We were in the back room. You were on your phone, and I was in the armchair. I was reading this. I was imagining saying these things to you.”

“You what?” Crowley’s heart couldn’t take anymore. “That’s downright pervy, that is! Aziraphale, I’m impressed.”

Aziraphale was blushing. “Well, I’m glad it makes you happy.”

“Happy doesn’t cover it.” Crowley cursed again and pulled at his restraints. He wanted to miracle them away, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Fuck, he was trapped. The only way out was to say  _ Eden _ . 

Aziraphale’s hand smoothed up Crowley’s side and belly and landed with fingertips on his right nipple. They began to tease.

Crowley’s hips bucked off the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need,” Aziraphale said, and fuck, he was lowering his head…

Aziraphale’s mouth enveloped him and the sensation was so incredible, Crowley had a hard time believing he’d felt it before. 

It had barely become familiar when Aziraphale released him from his mouth and slipped a hand underneath his knee. He lifted it up. 

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked. 

“Let me know when it gets uncomfortable,” Aziraphale asked, and there was another rope in his hand. He tied Crowley’s knee and tugged it farther up, looping the rope’s other end around the bedpost at the head of the bed.

When it started to hurt, Crowley whimpered. Aziraphale loosened it by several inches and tied it off.

Then he circled the bed and started on the other side. 

The sheer exposure of the position - even spread eagle had more dignity than this. All of him was exposed. His ass was lifted slightly off the bed, his genitals and opening lain out like an offering.

Aziraphale withdrew a bottle of lube from the bedside table. “Say  _ Eden  _ if it’s too much, okay?. You’re so very gorgeous like this, you know.”

_ Not possible. You’re the one gorgeous right now, willing to be in the same room with me while I’m like this, let alone... _ “Azira - fuck.”

Aziraphale set the bottle down, and Crowley’s heart did a particularly hyperactive cartwheel, because he knew where this was heading. “Aziraphale, you don’t have to -”

“If you want me to stop, say  _ Eden _ .”

He lowered his head, and his tongue flickered against Crowley - and into him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks. I'm self-quarantined with COVID-19-like symptoms that I can't get tested. So I hope to be writing a lot over the next week or two! 
> 
> Also, I'm now a mod for the Facebook group Ineffable husbands-Fanfictions Reader and Writer-AO3, so joinnnn usssss. Come to the dark side, we have pOrNoGrApHy! https://www.facebook.com/groups/675487726247367/ 
> 
> And if you haven't checked out Crowley's blog yet, please feel welcome. https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978837


	34. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's my demon."

This felt unbelievably delicious... and also... 

Vulnerable. That was how this felt. Crowley couldn't stop squirming, tightening his opening as if to resist Aziraphale, even though that was the last thing he wanted to do. The only way to relax his legs wide, and he couldn't even manage that for more than a few seconds before his knees were up again. They didn't meet, they didn't protect anything, he just couldn't stop moving. 

Aziraphale's hands cupped his ass cheeks, thumbs pressing close to the target of his tongue. "Is everything okay, love?"

"Y-yeah. I don't need to say it. I just -" He cut off with a ragged groan that was actually pretty embarrassing. 

"I don't suppose I could ask you to relax?"

As much as Crowley wished he had that kind of control over his body… "That might not be possible."

"Hmmm," Aziraphale said, adjusting his hands on Crowley's ass, and he felt a fingertip against him. "A change of approach then?"

"Yeah," Crowley croaked, unable to argue. 

The fingertip slipped inside, but Aziraphale, it seemed, wasn't done with his tongue. He licked up Crowley's perineum and saw to his balls while he slowly worked the fingertip in and began to stretch. 

"I love," he said between laps, "having access to… these pieces of you. Being trusted to… make you… fall apart." He backed away, and his free hand toyed with his leaking cock, spreading precum. "I want to make you feel more than just good. I want you to feel adored, taken care of. I want to show you that you can trust me with all of you, and I will love every… inch." His tongue slide up the underside of Crowley's thigh.

"Aziraphale," he whined. 

"Let the physical side of it symbolize the emotional side, the mental side. I want all of you, Crowley."

"Yes," Crowley hissed. He would have sworn over every tiny piece and secret right there, if he could have found the words.

But another finger was slipping in alongside the first, and they were tickling and toying and moving closer to -

Dear everything sweet and wonderful. His prostate lit up under Aziraphale's touch like concentrated sunlight. He cried out and just managed to bite down on it so it came out muffled. 

"No need to hold back," Aziraphale said. "No need to feel embarrassed with me, Crowley. I love every noise I manage to draw out of you. I had a thought, back at the Ritz, about wanting to play you like an instrument."

Those words registered slowly through the thick haze of pleasure and lit him up just as well as the touch to his prostate had.

He was tense, knees up again, but Aziraphale put his hands on his inner thighs and eased them apart. “Relax, love.”

“I’m trying, it’s just - oh, god.” Crowley had looked down for the first time in a while to see Aziraphale’s heavy-lidded face, and behind it, bare shoulders. “When did you undress?”

“Shortly after the last time you looked at me. You’ve had your eyes squeezed shut - Is it helping you feel less vulnerable?” 

“No,” Crowley laughed. 

Aziraphale took a breath, ghosting over his exposed areas. “This is going to be difficult for me, too, but I think you should look at me for a while, Crowley.”

“Why would -" Aziraphale's fingers moved against his prostate and he gasped "- that be difficult?”

“Why is your instinct to close your eyes right now?”

“I don’t want to have to look at myself,” Crowley laughed. “With my legs spread like that.”

“Like this?” Aziraphale traced fingers from Crowley’s thigh into the crease of his leg and down.

“Fuck, yes,” Crowley said, closing his eyes again. He caught himself and looked back down at Aziraphale. “Wait, why is it difficult for you? Is it  _ your _ insecurity?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Aziraphale traced his fingers out, and then all the way back in, to that sweet spot.

“Nguh… Maybe we should swap places," Crowley managed to say. 

Aziraphale smirked. “Not yet. You'll have your way with me, I promise." He reached between Crowley's legs to feel his stomach, his chest. "All your ways," he murmured.

Those fingers tapped and worked against him as Aziraphale simply explored him with his free hand, every peak and plane and crease. Crowley watched, always looking back ar Aziraphale's hungry, reverent eyes. If he were free, he would long ago have shaken him off, taken the lead, demanded to touch and limit being touched in return. 

Aziraphale stroked along his cock, taking some of the edge off. "Sooner or later, I want you to tell me every fantasy you've ever had about me. It'll be good for both of us, for me to feel desired, for you to trust me."

"You are… ngk… desired. I want you. Aziraphale, please," Crowley babbled, unsure what he was begging for. 

Aziraphale's fingertips drummed along Crowley's belly and his sweet spot simultaneously, and even as he wriggled in reaction, his ticklishness didn't seem like such a curse. 

Aziraphale laughed lightly and smoothed his hand back around to Crowlry's hip. "I won't be  _ too _ cruel to you, now."

"Just cruel enough to be worth it," Crowley managed. 

"Worth what?" Aziraphale added in a third finger,

Crowley gasped. "Azira - Fuck me. Please."

Aziraphale was quiet a moment. His expression - Crowley knew that look. Painfully tempted. "Let me think about it."

But he continued to explore Crowley and work him open, teasing until he thought he might come untouched.

"Slow down," Crowley said. "I can't - it feels too good."

"Aziraphale's fingers slid out and he moved up over Crowley, leaning to kiss him. Crowley couldn't help seizing the security of initiative, he worked his tongue in, pulled him in deeper just with the way he worked his mouth. 

Aziraphale eventually murmured something against his lips. "Do you still want to touch me?"

"Fuck, yes," Crowley answered. 

"If I release your hands but not your legs, is that okay?"

"Yes, God, yes."

The ropes around Crowley's wrists fell slack and vanished. He reached for Aziraphale and pulled him down by the neck so he could kiss him more. He greedily dug his fingers into those tantalizing bare shoulders, the same ones he admired when Aziraphale took his bath. He squeezed Aziraphale's upper arms. 

While only breaking the kiss for brief moments, Aziraphale lined himself up. "Ready?"

"Understatement," Crowley growled. "Aziraphale, fuck me."

Aziraphale smiled. "There's my demon." 

He slowly filled Crowley with only the slightest stretch and yet a heft that left no inch of him unstimulated. Aziraphale moving inside him might as well have been an ocean wave sweeping over him, the way every inch of his skin felt touched by it, the way he gasped for breath, the way his body floated, moving in ways almost beyond his control. 

"You don't need to breathe, remember?" Aziraphale coached gently. "Can't have you passing out. Fuck, the way you feel, Crowley…"

He reversed his motion, slowly pulling back. 

"You didn't - didn't bottom out."

"I'm just going slow, darling, I don't want to hurt you. Oh, keeping control right now… you're much too tempting, you know that?"

"Speak for yourself," Crowley said, hands diving along Aziraphale's sides, taking full advantage of their new freedom. 

"That doesn't help." Aziraphale stopped. "I need a moment."

Crowley channeled his frustration into kissing Aziraphale, although he did wonder if this also was making things worse. Aziraphale's lips were a little hesitant, a little slow to react. 

"What exactly is the problem?" Crowley finally asked. "If you want to pick up the pace, you can. I'm telling you, you can do whatever you want."

“No,” Aziraphale said firmly, fretfully. “That’s - Crowley, my love, I can’t. I will not indulge your self-hatred. I've promised to build you up.”

Crowley was touched, but he was also confused, and he instinctively wanted to argue. “It’s not about self-hatred, it’s about trust. I trust you.”

“Then trust me when I say I need to make love to you gently,” Aziraphale growled - not very gently. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

Aziraphale took a calming breath. “We can experiment with being rough another time, if we like. That’s not what today is about. Now...”

He moved again, and thank Someone for that, because it was every bit as delicious as the first time. Crowley felt like he was being fed a trickle of chocolate and just wanted to bite into a proper piece of it.

He bit down onto Aziraphale’s neck - something he hadn’t dared do yet - and got a sharp inhale as a reward. His hands celebrated their freedom, roaming Aziraphale’s sides and back, down from his hips up into his hair.

And the speed slowly increased, increment by delectable increment. 

“Do I have the right angle, my love?” Aziraphale asked. 

“With my legs spread this wide? Pretty sure every angle is perfect.”

“Some might be better than others. Like...” He managed an upward thrust that rubbed Crowley’s sweet spot in such a way that he blathered something even he couldn’t understand, something about percentages of perfection.

Aziraphale hummed and smiled. “Yes, I think I like this position, too.” He hit the spot again.

Stars were bursting behind Crowley’s eyelids when he blinked. Within seconds, he was about to come. He couldn’t really tighten his legs in warning, so he had to communicate. “I’m going to - fuck.”

It was too late, he was climbing, soaring.

Aziraphale caught his eyes. “It’s okay, darling go ahead. I will, too.”

He came with his hands in Aziraphale’s hair, barely maintaining enough restraint not to clutch. Aziraphale’s head dropped into his neck and he bit at the juncture above his collarbone, making an exquisitely expressive noise that rose in pitch and lowered again.

They both came down trembling, clinging to each other. Aziraphale’s hand pressed into Crowley’s chest as the angel drew back, out. He hugged Crowley around the middle, kissing just below his pectorals, and Crowley’s legs fell, free of their restraints at last.

“Fuck, I love you,” Crowley breathed, toying with Aziraphale’s ear. He stretched his legs, moving them against Aziraphale’s body. “But I think you just altered the construction of my hips. My legs don’t want to lie flat.”

“They’ll adjust. Miracle them along if you need to. I’m not complaining, in the meanwhile.” 

Crowley dug his heels into Aziraphale’s behind. “Oh?”

“Every move you make against me, I swear. I’ve wanted you for so long. Loved you for so long. Body and soul. Do you believe it yet?”

“I’m starting to,” Crowley said, but all he really knew was that his heart felt both full to bursting and desperately hungry.

Definitely close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Aziraphale dead-ass STOPPED, it took a while for me to figure out WHY. And then when he did explain, it came out as something far more eloquent than I could use for a sex scene. 
> 
> I might be a lil crazy.


	35. Plushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh, yeah, my snake form might have two dicks, but I can still understand how this one would be sexier."

Aziraphale held onto Crowley's middle for a long time, and when he moved, it was only to climb up to the pillows and hold him again. 

He just wanted to feel Crowley's skin right now, how it cooled as he came down from his orgasm, how light touches could raise goosebumps and smoothing palms could relax him. 

Crowley reciprocated with his eyes closed, fingertips somehow both lazy and hungry as they traced patterns over Aziraphale's arm and shoulder. 

“Do you think it’s too late,” Crowley said suddenly, opening his eyes, “to find clearanced Valentine’s Day candy?”

“It’s the sixteenth now,” Aziraphale said. “So probably.”

“Eh, should probably save that for people who actually care about money, anyway. Do you like plushes?”

“What?”

“You know, stuffed animals. I’ve never seen you keep them around, but if I got you one, would you want it?”

Aziraphale laughed. “Of course. I’d like anything you give me.”

“What about a big one?” Crowley asked. 

“Sure,” Aziraphale said. “I’m sure I could find room.” 

Crowley smirked. “And what if it weren’t very fluffy?”

Aziraphale couldn’t stifle his smile. “Where are you going with this?”

“And what if it were more of a live animal than a stuffed one?”

“What kind of animal - ? Crowley, are you asking if you can turn into a snake?”

He looked askance. “Maybe.”

“Of course you can, I don’t mind. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be into it sexually…”

Crowley snorted. “Uh, yeah, my snake form might have two dicks, but I can still understand how this one would be sexier. Do you mind if I change now?”

Aziraphale backed away a bit to give him space. “By all means.”

Crowley closed his eyes as if relaxing and began to morph. It was a little startling to watch the transition, as always, but Aziraphale remembered that Crowley had been mid-transition the first time he had ever laid eyes on him, on the wall of Eden, and decided it was kind of comforting, too.

Fully snake-ified, Crowley slithered up around Aziraphale’s head and licked his ear with a dry tongue. “Thankssss.”

“Ssssssure.”

“Don’t make fun,” Crowley hissed. 

Aziraphale smirked. “I should think you’d prefer me to tease you in this form. It’s not like you can visibly blush anymore. You don’t even really have facial expressions.”

“I ssssuppose." Crowley slithered closer, his long body up against Aziraphale's and wrapped over his head, and put his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. 

"So," Azirphale said, deciding to push his luck. "What was your rank as an angel?"

“I can tell you my rank as a ssssnake.”

“What was that?”

“Top of the list. In a league of my own.”

“That would also put you at the bottom.”

“The lisssst only has a top. No bottom.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Ssssure it does.”

Aziraphale schooled his face and voice into seriousness. “Crowley, I’m dying.”

“What?” Crowley hissed, picking his head up.

Aziraphale smirked. “Of curiosity.”

“Ffffuck, you ssssscared me,” Crowley said and nipped at Aziraphale’s ear with fangs. 

“Are you venomous?” Aziraphale asked. 

“No,” Crowley said, undulating slightly, as if laughing. “Fine. You tell me a ssssecret, and then I’ll tell you one of mine.”

“A secret,” Aziraphale echoed. “I looked at your blog while you were asleep. I read the whole thing.”

Crowley was very still. The chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder seemed to heat up a bit. “What did you think?”

“You know all those times you and your followers thought I might be flirting with you?”

“Yeah?”

“I was.”

Crowley was quiet a long moment before finally whispering. “Good.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “I feel like I got to know some of your followers pretty well from their comments. I would love to make an account so I could converse with some of them. I mean, you are going to continue it, of course?”

“I-I can,” he said. “I’m still going to find things to ssssshow you online all the time. And I can tell them how we’re doing. I’d like to keep our sssssex life off-limits, though.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Up to you.”

Crowley snorted and nuzzled him. “You’re amazing.”

“Is WelcomeToThePrideParade your friend Rachel? And BettyWhiteButNotTheCool one is Betty, of course.”

“Yeah. You actually met DapperGentleman SSSSSeven also, at one point. Richard, remember?” 

“Oh, that’s Richard? How wonderful.”

“Sssssshit, I should check my phone, I’m ssssssure they’ve all been messaging me demanding updatesssss.”

“Why don’t you change back and do that? I’m sure they’re all in suspense. You left things off quite tantalizingly.

“Okay, fine.” Crowley uncoiled and shifted back into his human shape. He slipped off the bed to find his jeans, giving Aziraphale another delightful view of his ass as he bent to pick them up.

Phone in hand, he got back on the bed and cuddled close to Aziraphale. 

Together, they made plans with Rachel and updated the blog. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I need some help. Calling fanartists! 
> 
> As you know, Crowley's blog is now a fic ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978837 ). Thing is, in this story, when Crowley describes the blog, he mentions porn of people who look like Aziraphale. Unfortunately, this is very hard to find. 
> 
> So I'm hoping to find some fanartists who would be willing to draw & allow me to use ACTUAL art of Aziraphale as "art resembling Aziraphale". It would have to be NSFW, but tasteful as you like. 
> 
> If you can help, please reach out to me on Tumblr - https://courtneydileshenderson.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks!


	36. Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cease, you smart-mouthed danger noodle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long hiatus. I have not been able to write anything in nearly four months... including 8 non-Good Omens-related projects.
> 
> Until yesterday, when I put most of this together.
> 
> Let's hope the block remains broken. <3

Crowley woke up the next morning surrounded in warmth. It didn’t take him long to remember where he was - in Aziraphale’s flat - in Aziraphale’s  _ bedroom  _ \- and  _ arms.  _ His own arms were stiff, and his wrists stung a bit. He shivered; he couldn't decide which he liked more - being surrounded in warmth and arms or being surrounded in cold and rope. 

But his mind rewound a little further. He had confessed his insecurities about almost making Aziraphale fall.

His stomach twisted. So uncool. So stupid, to put that idea into Aziraphale’s mind, too. 

He nuzzled into Aziraphale's chest instinctively, childishly. Clinging. 

Aziraphale hummed and pulled back to take hold of Crowley's arm and inspect his raw wrist. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"'M fine." 

"Just fine?"

"Shut up," Crowley said, failing to repress a smile. 

"I'm better than fine. I feel like crying."

Crying? Crowley looked up to see Aziraphle's face. "What?"

He was smiling. "Good crying. Crowley, you trusted me to tie you up with blessed rope. You trusted me enough to  _ tell me what’s been bothering you all this time." _

"Did not," Crowley mumbled. "Wasn't about trust. I was planning to off you. You know, like a demon."

Aziraphale squeezed him. "I'd have smited you before you could think the thought."

Crowley made an indignant noise. 

"What made you change your mind?" Aziraphale said. "Against offing me like a demon?"

"Well it wasn't your magic act, if that's what you're thinking."

Aziraphale sighed. 

"Or your taste in music."

This earned him a pinch on the hip. "Cease, you smart-mouthed danger noodle."

"Where the hell did you learn  _ danger noodle _ ?"

"I do have a computer. Would you prefer 'nope rope'? Ropes seem to be a pleasant thought for you." He traced a mark on Crowley's wrist. 

Crowley tried to glare. "I could change my mind again."

"Oh, are you asking to be smitten? I was under the impression that ship had sailed."

"Ngk. You're one to talk!"

"I daresay so. Beyond smitten. I love you."

Crowley was suddenly overwhelmed with a need to touch, to taste, to express, to flirt, to tease and be teased - basically to be as affectionate as possible. 

More affectionate than he had the courage to be. 

His lips tingled for a kiss, and that he could manage. He braced his fingers against the skin of Aziraphale's chest to maneuver himself up to kiss him. 

The kiss satisfied his oral fixation just enough to keep him wanting more. Aziraphale's hand moved to his cheek, and warmth bloomed in Crowley's chest. He began to kiss with a ferocity that was almost reckless, alternating between tender biting, vicious sucking, and explorations of a very curious and plentiful tongue. 

Aziraphale laughed lightly as Crowley licked up his throat. "You seem to be having some strong feelings this morning."

"Yeah. About you." He nibbled his ear. 

"Oh, my dear. Don't get me wrong, it's… good, to understate it by leagues. I'm just trying to puzzle out what's helping you feel so bold."

"I dunno," Crowley breathed into his ear. "Love drunk."

"Then it's fine if I match you in kind?"

"Of course," Crowley smirked. "I don't dish out what I can't take."

Aziraphale's gaze raked down Crowley's body. The comforter only covered one of his legs now. Then his eyes met Crowley's again. "You sure about that?"

Crowley squirmed delightfully and tried to keep a sexy smirk on his face, and not a goofy grin. "Bring it, angel."

Aziraphale wasn't quite as rough as Crowley felt like he was being, which worried him for a moment - was Aziraphale not comfortable with it? But Aziraphale's reactions were delicious, and a light smile painted his face. No, he wasn't rough, but he managed to convey just as much passion into every touch, if not more. The way he moved his head, his tongue, his hands, like a dancer without rhythm, made Crowley think of poetry. 

And the poetry was drifting downward. 

One of Aziraphale's hands was nestled tightly in his hair, but the other was tracing a line up and down the center of Crowley's stomach, wandering a fingertip or two toward his hips, his sides. He twitched in response several times before it occurred to him that Aziraphale was intentionally tickling. 

He broke the kiss with a glare. "Are you doing that on purpose?"

"What?" Aziraphale's expression was exaggeratedly innocent. His fingertips brushed over Crowley's side, and Crowley squirmed. 

"That!" Crowley hissed. 

"But I love making you laugh," Aziraphale said sweetly, before dancing his fingers around Crowley's belly button. 

Crowley barked out a laugh, and for some reason, his body pressed into the touch instead of flinching away. 

He realized he was even more aroused, to the point Aziraphale would notice. 

Aziraphale smirked. "That's interesting."

Shit. So a part of him liked being tickled. It was easy to see the appeal now - being playfully touched, being squirmy and submissive. There could be wrestling involved. Aziraphale could dance his fingertips across the most sensitive parts of him. 

There was no point denying it. 

"I guess it's a good thing you didn't discover this while I was tied up."

Aziraphale's smile softened. "I won't do anything you really don't like. My intent was only to tease."

Crowley took a breath. "I guess it's okay if it's you."

Aziraphale cupped his jaw. "You have the safeword."

Crowley smirked. "I do. So I might fight you."

“Fight me?” Aziraphale smiled. “We’d be rather evenly matched these days, I think.”

A thought occurred to Crowley. “What about you? Are you ticklish?”

“Rarely, I’m afraid, but don’t worry, your touch always drives me wild.”

Crowley smoothed a hand around Aziraphale’s arm. “We couldn’t for a long time. Touch, I mean.”

“An agonizingly long time,” Aziraphale said. But now…”

Crowley found himself pushed into the bed by a shoulder, while the angle straddled him to sit on his legs. 

He tried not to squeal as the onslaught began. 


End file.
